Living On Borrowed Time
by Ys
Summary: [WIP] Severus has been discovered as a spy and comes back at Hogwarts near death. But he has thought of a potion... This story is NOT HPcompliant.
1. For I Obey Your Will

**Disclaimer**: never did and never will own it. J.K. Rowling does.   
**Spoilers**: Order of the Phoenix   
Thank you to my beta, Nakhash Mekashefah!

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** Living On Borrowed Time - For I Obey Your Will, But With More Ease Could Die **

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Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts and leader of the war against Lord Voldemort, looked down at the wreck that Rubeus Hagrid and Argus Filch had just brought back from the border of the Forbidden Forest. Said wreck was supposedly the body of his Potions master, Severus Snape, local greasy git and valuable spy for the Order of the Phoenix. 

Poppy Pomfrey tutted and shooed the Headmaster away, bending over her patient and trying to heal as much as she could on such short notice. For Albus, it was a miracle Severus was still alive and he wondered how he had managed to Apparate while under Voldemort's eye. 

Even though she wasn't saying anything, Albus could feel Poppy's despair. She was losing Severus and all her skills weren't enough to keep alive the little flame that was still burning in him. He stepped forward and softly asked her if there was something he could do, _anything_. She shook her head, pursing her lips, and Albus felt his heart sink. What was the use of being the only wizard Voldemort feared if he wasn't able to save the man he had forced back into this life of horrors? 

Then he noticed that Severus's left hand was clenched tightly. Gently, despite Poppy's reproving glare, he opened the fingers on a tiny phial filled with a dark red liquid and a paper wrapped around it. Albus put the phial aside and opened the slightly crumpled paper, smoothing it absent-mindedly. 

The words written on it had no meaning for him. He recognised some ingredients, which was enough for him to guess that it was about a potion; the rarity of some of them clued him that the potion was probably not in the standard program taught at Hogwarts. 

"Keep trying, Poppy," he instructed curtly before leaving the Hospital Wing with his robes billowing almost as well as Severus's. 

Severus's young colleague in research was still in the laboratory, leaning over the tiny scrawl covering the parchments scattered on the table. 

"Hermione? I need your help," said Albus urgently, entering without taking the usual precautions he had to observe otherwise. 

She straightened up slowly and looked up at him. Hermione Granger was now a Potions mistress in her own right, even though it was through no thanks to Severus. Since he had refused to take her as his apprentice, she had studied with the Potions master who had been brewing the Wolfsbane potion for Remus before he came to Hogwarts. Then, she had come back three years ago, armed with her degree, and Severus had reluctantly agreed to keep her with him, knowing that she would be a real asset to the Order of the Phoenix. 

"What is it, Albus?" she asked tiredly. 

Then she noticed how worried he was and frowned. 

"Did something happen to Severus? Is he hurt?" 

"Hermione… He's dying, I'm afraid," said Albus slowly, not really knowing how she would react. 

Gryffindors, in general, were renowned for their dislike of the Potions master, but Hermione was able to work with him without complaint. In three years, they had only had five rows spectacular enough to be heard from the Great Hall. She still spoke her mind about him and it was rarely to say something nice. Yet, she could be fiercely protective of him and had more than once threatened Harry Potter himself for his bad-mouthing of the Slytherin teacher. 

She didn't react badly. Her lips tightened into a thin line and her eyes hardened, but she didn't say anything, just looked at him expectedly. 

"He came back with this… Can you identify it?" 

She took the paper and read the familiar handwriting. Albus looked at her in silence as she read it once, twice, thrice. She had paled considerably and her hands were shaking. 

"He knew," she said, her voice toneless. "He knew Voldemort would see through his cover eventually." 

Albus waited for her to continue. 

"This," she added, brandishing the paper, "is his comeback at Voldemort. He knew the Dark Lord would kill him for what he had done… so he worked on this potion. This is sheer folly!" 

"Tell me, Hermione, what is it about?" 

"It's a potion allowing him to draw energy from Voldemort," she said, taking a deep breath. "You told me he's dying. The only way for him to live is to be like a parasite to the Dark Lord." 

"And Tom will be weakened by this, won't he?" guessed Albus. 

"Severus will slowly drain him of his life force and magic. If we use this potion, Voldemort will soon be so weak that a child will be able to kill him." 

"A child was already able to wreak damage on him long ago, Hermione. This sounds like a good idea." 

"No! You don't understand. As soon as Voldemort is dead, Severus won't have any input of life force and will die at the same time!" 

"But we can't let the chance pass, Hermione," Albus said softly. 

At the stubborn way she raised her chin, he knew that she hadn't said her last word. 

She brewed the potion. There was nothing else to be done and she knew it. Someone healthy couldn't drain Voldemort as much as Severus, being so weak and at death's door, could do. Her hand was shaking as she was pressing the phial against Severus's lips, all the while rubbing his throat gently so that the liquid would slip down. He coughed feebly, trying to escape her gentle hold, but he was as weak as a newborn kitten. 

After several minutes, he opened his eyes but couldn't do more than blink owlishly. Squinting, he managed to recognise Hermione and opened his mouth. No sound came out of it. 

"Stop it," she said roughly. "You're in no condition to speak. Just shut it, all right?" 

To Albus's surprise, the hint of a smirk appeared on Severus's pale lips as he closed his eyes again and fell asleep. 

Poppy didn't say anything to Hermione's taking up quarters by Severus's bed and she readily communicated his readings to her. During this time, the Order of the Phoenix was discussing how they could best take advantage of the situation. Harry, tired of waiting and of Albus's stalling, was for attacking almost immediately. Ron wisely pointed out that it would make Severus's sacrifice useless. Finally, they all agreed to wait at least one week and then see how things were going from there. The problem was that they wouldn't have any real source of information about Voldemort's welfare since Severus wasn't among the ranks of his followers anymore. 

One week later, Severus was already back on his feet and pacing his room like a caged lion. Without looking up from her current experiment, Hermione explained for the hundredth time, "You can't go out there. There are spies for Voldemort in Hogwarts and they would report you to him almost immediately." 

"I know this!" he snapped. "But inactivity is driving me crazy!" 

"Now you know what Sirius felt when he was trapped at number twelve, Grimmauld Place," she replied evenly, not caring for his growl of frustration. 

They finally had a good insight into the Dark Lord's condition one month after Severus's spectacular return. Peter Pettigrew weighed his options and realised that, from Voldemort's state of health, it was obvious that the side he was currently on was losing. So, he came running to Hogwarts, implored Albus's pity and betrayed his old comrades the same way he had betrayed James and Lily Potter so many years before. They thus knew it was time for them to strike. 

Strangely, Hermione, for once, came out of the dungeons and silently joined their ranks, wand at the ready. No matter what they said, no one could make her change her mind. She simply wouldn't stay behind. Severus was relocated to the Hospital Wing, denied the opportunity to taunt Voldemort one last time and not happy about it. 

Voldemort was a total wreck, hardly able to stand. As for casting a spell, it was totally beyond his abilities. 

Harry fearlessly walked through the ranks of Death Eaters the Dark Lord had managed to summon at the last moment and put his wand on the white temple. 

"Say your prayers, Voldemort," he said grimly. "I'll send my thanks to Snape for weakening you, later." 

"Snape is dead, fool!" replied the snake-like creature, his voice wispy though still hissing. 

"Keep telling yourself that and you might believe it in time. Ah, but I'm afraid you won't have that time. Good-bye, Voldemort." 

Unseen by the Dark Lord, Harry drew a dagger from his belt and plunged it into Voldemort's heart. He had found the dagger in Sirius's belongings after his death and had sworn that it would be the weapon that would kill the Dark Lord. 

He turned around to see the Death Eaters surrounded by the Order of the Phoenix. They were victorious and without any losses. Hermione touched lightly his shoulder. 

"I have to go," she said. 

He remembered then, that by now, Severus Snape was probably dying due to the lack of a life force. He knew that Hermione cared for him in some ways, even though he couldn't understand why, for the life of him. 

"All right, go. I will see you later," he said gently, wondering why he felt no sense of glee now that his archenemy was truly dead. 

She nodded and Apparated away. 

Severus opened his eyes to a view of the white ceiling in the Hospital Wing. 

'I should be dead,' he thought fuzzily. 

He didn't feel as weak as he had the first time he had awaken from the dead, and so he managed to rise onto his elbows. Immediately, both Poppy and Albus were by his side. 

"What happened?" he growled. 

They didn't answer, Poppy waved her wand above him, her face closed and stern. 

"Everything is stable," she announced before leaving abruptly. 

"Albus?" asked Severus, puzzled. "How is it I'm alive? Did you fail to kill the Dark Lord?" 

"No, Severus, Tom is dead and buried," said Albus softly. "As for you being alive, she did everything she could for it to be so." 

"She?" 

Slowly reality dawned on him and he fought against it. 

"No! She couldn't… didn't… Where is the annoying chit?" 

Mutely, Albus indicated a bed next to his and Severus turned his head to see Hermione lying there, seemingly sleeping peacefully. 

"She will never last! Why would she want to waste her life for me to gain some meaningless minutes or hours?" 

"If you think your life is meaningless, then she did it all for nothing." 

With difficulty, Severus stood up and went to Hermione's bed. His hand hovered for a moment over her brow before he brushed his fingers against it. She didn't stir. He shook her shoulder a bit more forcefully but still she didn't react. 

"Why doesn't she wake up?" 

"She will never wake up, Severus. She cast a spell on herself so that she would be frozen in time forever. However, her life force is still fuelling you." 

"Why did she do this, Albus?" asked Severus, feeling for once very close to tears. 

"You're the only one who can answer that question. She gave me this for you also. It seems that she was busy while Harry was fighting Voldemort." 

He held out a heavy book and Severus took it. It opened at a page already marked and there he found a parchment with Hermione's handwriting. The potion and spell described in the book were those he needed to remove the Dark Mark on his arm. It was the very book Voldemort had used for his spells. 

_Dear Severus,_

_I am sure that you would never let me call you that if the situation were different. But seeing how it is, I think you will allow for a little informality. I wonder if you hate me now. Sometimes, while we were waiting for Voldemort to weaken, I thought that you had chosen this way because you so wanted to die, a hero in shadows and an unnoticed death. But no such luck for you, my friend!_

_Indeed, I created the same potion as the one I brewed already, except that I put my blood in it instead of Voldemort's. Somehow, I feel a bit ashamed abusing the trust you have in me, even though I haven't betrayed it yet. In a few moments, I will bring you a cup of wine and you will drink the potion with it. And then… your life will be fully yours._

_Don't let anyone grieve for me if any feel the need to do so. My life isn't wasted if it gives you a new chance. Oh, and don't let anyone make you believe you owe them – or me – anything. It would be an outright lie._

_I hope you find the book interesting. I certainly did. As for the potion for your Dark Mark, I will let you brew it yourself. I'm not pretentious enough to think that I can outdo you in this domain._

_Farewell, Severus, and please do take advantage of this new chance, I beg of you. There is no need for you to live a borrowed life anymore._

_Hermione Granger_

When Severus looked up, he found himself alone in the Hospital Wing, except for the still body of Hermione. Silently, he left, going straight to his laboratory to brew the potion to remove his Dark Mark. Only when it was finished, two weeks afterwards, did he come back to the Hospital Wing. Hermione was still there, surrounded with flowers that had been spelled – by Pomona Sprout herself – to never wither. She looked like a princess in an old fairy tale. 

He stood up next to her bed. 

"You win," he said softly. "I'll claim my life back, live it fully, just because I can't bear the idea I'd be owing you a life debt… You know how much I hate that, though. By the way, I did find the book interesting. You probably told me so because there's the counter-spell for your sleeping charm in it. As you guessed, I won't cast it. It wouldn't prevent you from casting the spell on yourself again and again and it would only drain you for no good end. But I won't give up, Hermione, this I can promise you. Someday, soon I hope, I will return and I will give you back your life. And then… then Hermione, if you want, we will live together what will be left of our days…" 

He placed a chaste kiss on her brow and left without turning back. 


	2. And Silence Their Mourning With Vows Of ...

**Disclaimer**: never did and never will own it. J.K. Rowling does.   
**Spoilers**: Order of the Phoenix   
Thank you to my beta, Nakhash Mekashefah!

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** Living On Borrowed Time - And Silence Their Mourning With Vows Of Returning **

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After Voldemort's demise, Harry was mobbed by the press, the _Daily Prophet_ leading them, and he even managed to spot a smirking, if strangely silent, Rita Skeeter on the side, an ordinary quill in her hand. In between interviews, he went to the Wizengamot as a witness during the trial of the Death Eaters. Ron was there also, since, during the final battle, Harry had spent his time dealing with Voldemort rather than with the Death Eaters. 

Lucius Malfoy, among others, knew when to call the game off. Proudly, arrogantly, he refused the Veritaserum that a wizard was handing out to him. 

"There is no need for this. I have nothing to hide and no need to lie." 

Curiously, Cornelius Fudge wasn't present for the trials, so Percy Weasley, as his assistant, was asking the questions. He leaned forward and frowned. 

"So you willingly recognise being a follower of You-Know-Who, being therefore known as Death Eaters?" 

Lucius had a brief laugh of scorn for Fudge's puppet. 

"That would be a lie. I, with others, only used the fool Voldemort for the purpose of the Order we belong to, an Order that existed long before Tom Marvolo Riddle was even born." 

Everyone gasped, save some wizards who instead wore smug little smiles. 

"If you care to explain, Mr Malfoy," snapped Percy, a bit paler than usual. 

Speaking calmly, as if he was standing in his own house, Lucius Malfoy stated that he belonged to the Knights of Walpurgis, an Order created by Salazar Slytherin himself after he had left Hogwarts. Muggles had threatened the Wizarding world at a time when witch-hunts, torture and stakes had been common. Ever vigilant – an ironic echo of Alastor Moody's motto – the Knights had protected the Wizarding world from the persecutions. When the only magic left in the Muggles' imagination had been in fairy tales, the Knights went into hiding, but were still there, ready to intervene if necessary, ready to side with whomever understood their cause and was willing to lead the fight for pure-blood supremacy. 

He gave many names, families that had belonged to the Order of the Knights of Walpurgis since its creation: the Malfoy family, the Lestrange family, the Black family, the Snape family. There was movement in the crowd at that last name; the Black family was extinct, the Lestrange and Malfoy were being tried, but the last descendant of the Snape family was absent. Some from the Wizengamot remembered the day Albus Dumbledore had stood up for him, giving his word that Severus Snape wasn't a Death Eater. If the Potions master considered himself a Knight of Walpurgis, could Albus Dumbledore have been deceived, lying while all the time saying what he believed to be the truth? 

Harry didn't say anything. There were still too many things he hadn't forgiven Severus Snape and he had found a long time ago that blaming him for Sirius's death was far easier than blaming himself. Quietly, Ron stood up and declared the name of Snape was to be left unsaid for the rest of the trials. No matter what his ancestors had done, the man had redeemed himself more than once and had even offered his life to atone for his past faults. Amelia Bones nodded discreetly, approving his intervention, while Lucius Malfoy glared at Ron. 

Afterwards, the head of the Malfoy family only had to explain the role of his Order in the war with Voldemort. Only Bellatrix Lestrange, still alive – through no fault of Harry – but gravely wounded, seemed to disagree with Lucius when he explained that he had known all along exactly what Voldemort was – a half-blood, like Harry himself – who would never have been allowed to become a Knight of Walpurgis. 

They had taken advantage of him and his powers, of his thirst for recognition and supremacy. They hadn't shared his obsession with Harry Potter, though the young wizard had proven irritating enough. The Knight Commander of the Order – someone whose name Lucius refused to divulge – had made the decision to join Voldemort for as long as he served their purpose. Tom Riddle hadn't known of the Knights of Walpurgis, and they had laughed at the ridiculous name he had given his followers. They graciously played their part, grateful in a way that the cover allowed them to be active again while hiding the existence of their Order. 

Just before sitting, Lucius Malfoy threw a dirty glance toward Ron. 

"As for the person we must not name," he said, "just know that as soon as Voldemort wasn't useful to us anymore, his death warrant was sealed. It would have happened soon anyway, were it not for your meddling. So now, you will never know if He-Whose-Name-Shall-Be-Unsaid sacrificed himself for you or for the Knights of Walpurgis." 

The trials continued, though none of them were particularly interesting. There was a shocking revelation and the session had to be interrupted when two Death Eaters, Walden Macnair and Augustus Rookwood, admitted under Veritaserum that Fudge, current Minister for Magic, while not being a Death Eater per se, was still an active supporter and fully knew what he was doing when he hired them for the Ministry. Aurors were sent to the Minister's house, only to find it empty. He had already fled. 

The trials were stopped immediately. There was something more important to sort out. The Wizarding world needed a new Minister for Magic. Several names were suggested, among them, Percy Weasley, Arthur Weasley and Amelia Bones. Arthur and Amelia refused immediately. Percy tried not to look too eager but his forced smile of modesty didn't fool half of the Heads of Department. Arnold Peasgood, Obliviator, was strongly in favour of Percy, but the suspicions were that he had performed more Obliviate spells for Fudge than necessary. 

Arthur suggested Harry, who declined in horror. Amelia Bones shook her head and peered intently at the tall young man standing next to the hero, overlooked as usual. Ron raised his eyebrows quizzically in answer to her gaze and she smiled, leaning back into her chair. 

"I think Ronald Weasley would be a very good choice," she said then. 

The silence that fell on the room couldn't have been more deafening had Voldemort suddenly raised from the dead. Arnold Peasgood sniggered. 

"The youngest brother of the infamous Weasley twins? I think not. He might slip us Canary Creams at any moment. And anyway, he is only a sidekick." 

Curiously, Ron kept calm and folded his arms on his chest. 

"I've never insulted you, Arnold, so would you mind returning the favour?" 

Amelia began to explain why she thought Ron was the right candidate, retracing his career since his entry at the Ministry, how he had quickly risen to become the head of the Magical Law Enforcement Squad, using his skills in strategy to plan the captures so neatly that nobody was harmed. Even the Aurors had often called upon him – and also some Unspeakables, even though Amelia didn't mention it. She was proud of having him in her department. Ron blushed slightly at her praise, but turned frankly beet-red when both Griselda Marchbanks and Tiberius Ogden approved Amelia's choice. Arthur had never felt so proud of his youngest son. 

In the chaos, they completely forgot that they had never administered Veritaserum to Lucius Malfoy in order to know who the Knight Commander of the Order of Walpurgis was. 

Life was so hectic they didn't immediately notice that they hadn't seen Hermione since the final battle. As soon as they realised it, they stopped whatever they were doing and Apparated immediately to Hogsmeade before flying by broom to Hogwarts. The school was quiet and for some reason, Harry was reminded of his third year, when even the air seemed oppressive due to the presence of Dementors. 

Ron tugged on his sleeve. 

"Let's go see Dumbledore!" 

Harry didn't move at first. He knew that Hermione had been concerned for Severus and he knew that his friend wasn't one to stand idly by when someone she cared for needed her. He remembered that look of hers when, at the end of the battle, she had told him she had to go. It was the same look she always had when pursuing an idea. Now that he was taking the time to think about it, he began to fear for his friend. 

Ron was looking at him, wondering about his immobility and silence. Harry shook his head in answer to his unspoken question and instinctively headed straight for the Hospital Wing, almost expecting to see Hermione sitting by Severus's deathbed and perhaps praying for him or something like it. 

The Hospital Wing was empty, though he could hear faint glass noises coming from a closed room, where Poppy was probably rearranging her potions. His eyes scanned the room quickly and his breath caught when he saw the flowered bed. Even from afar, even without seeing her face, he knew that it was Hermione. Once standing by her bed, without knowing it, he repeated the same gestures Severus had done the first time he had seen her like this, his hand hovering over her brow before caressing it with his fingertips. 

Her skin was still soft and warm and, for a moment, his breathing eased. She was not dead. Maybe it was just like the time she had been petrified by the Basilisk. Maybe it was just temporary. Then that meant there was a solution and he would find it! Ron stood by his side, looking at her, seemingly unable to fully understand what he was seeing. 

Then an aged voice behind them spoke: 

"I have been waiting for you." 

They turned around to face Albus Dumbledore, looking uncharacteristically frail and weary. 

"What… what happened to her?" 

Albus sighed and began to tell them what she had done while they were at the Wizengamot. Harry closed his fists and stood up, enraged. 

"Where is he? Where is the worthless git who accepted such a gift when he never deserved it? He didn't even deserve to have Hermione as a colleague!" 

"Then maybe you should read her very words," replied Albus, handing them Hermione's letter to Severus. 

Ron took it and read it aloud, while Harry was pacing the room. 

"You are taking this calmly," said Albus, watching the redhead closely. 

"I have the same desire to rant and insult Snape, but I don't see the point when Harry is already doing so. Hermione is level-headed, she must have known there was a cure for this, something too far to reach in such short time, something maybe that only Snape could find?" 

"I now understand the choice of the Wizengamot, Mr Weasley. Amelia Bones was indeed right. Congratulations for your promotion." 

"That's it!" interrupted Harry. "Ron, you're Minister for Magic, you can find Snape, you can send the Squad and bring him back!" 

"Snape is no criminal, Harry." 

"He's killing Hermione!" 

"Don't you understand? Bringing Snape back here wouldn't solve anything. They are bound until Hermione's death and only if Snape finds a way out of this will she live!" shouted Ron. "I hurt as much as you, Harry, but this is not the moment to wallow in old hatreds! This is the moment to find solutions for helping Hermione and, yes, Snape also!" 

"This is clearly Dark Arts! You are supposed to forbid their use!" 

Ron sighed. 

"Harry, think about it for a moment, all right? If I accuse Snape of Dark Arts, as soon as Hermione wakes, I will have to try her also. _She_ brewed the potion, twice, and _she_ cast the sleeping spell. I cannot try Snape for something that she did! If he needs Dark Arts to revive her, I'm willing to overlook it, but it must not be known. Please, Harry, it's for her." 

"You've changed, Ron…" 

"Sending the Squad after Snape isn't going to help, Harry, nor is alerting the Wizarding world of what has happened. If they find him, what do you think they will do? They will kill him." 

"But then, she will probably wake up as if nothing had happened!" 

"I don't know why she chose to save him, Harry, but it matters to her. If we get Snape killed, we deny her freedom and ruin what she tried so hard to achieve." 

"So what are we going to do?" 

"We are going to protect him, no matter where he goes." 

"But will he do something for her? She said in her letter that he doesn't owe her anything." 

"We're talking about Snape here. The wizard who saved your life countless times but still thought he hadn't repaid the debt he owed your father for saving his life. And this time, it's more than one of Sirius's pranks. She allowed him to get his revenge on Voldemort, saved his life and gave him what he needed to get rid of the Dark Mark. He has probably already totalled that into several life debts." 

Harry considered Ron's words and calmed down a little. His brow furrowed in concentration and suddenly he said, "There is something I don't understand. Normally, if I remember well, as soon as Voldemort died, Snape should have died also. Perhaps not immediately, but he wouldn't have lasted long without his life input. Yet Hermione was with us when Voldemort died and she apparently had the time to go through the book, to the point that she states that she found it interesting. When did she have time to read it? And, on the same level, when did she brew the second potion for Snape, the one with her blood? She spent all her time with him and he certainly wouldn't have let her." 

Ron turned thoughtful. 

"You may have something here. For the potion, maybe she brewed enough the first time and just added her blood afterwards?" 

"I would think this kind of potion is hard to preserve for very long and that it's more efficient when fresh. No, she probably brewed it just before giving it to him. In a glass of wine she says. Snape should never have drunk such a potion. He would have recognised it from before." 

"Well, he was dying," Ron pointed out. 

"As for Hermione having so much time," said Albus, "it should be obvious, especially to you, Harry. Haven't you ever heard of Time Turners before?" 

"They're regulated by the Ministry," objected Ron. "I would have heard about it." 

"Except if she made it herself, and trust Hermione to do it. Though she should have needed more than one month to create one." 

"From what I understand, Hermione has had it for quite a long time. She already was in possession of one when she was studying for becoming a Potions mistress," said Albus. 

Ron and Harry groaned and Albus, prudently deciding that it was time for him to retire, left them alone with their friend. 

They were staring at her when Harry sighed. 

"Ron? Do you remember what Malfoy said? Do you think Snape can still be a Knight of Walpurgis? If that's the case, he would never come back, not for a Muggle-born." 

"I doubt it. First he accepted her for his colleague, though reluctantly. Second, I don't think Hermione would have done all of this for him if he still belonged to that Order." 

Harry didn't seem really convinced and shrugged. As he was leaving, Ron lagged behind a bit and whispered, "Don't worry, Hermione, we will protect Snape, I promise." 

Was it his imagination or not? He thought he had seen a slight smile on her frozen lips and that he had heard a breath replying softly, _'Thank you, Ron.'_


	3. Shake The Cloud From Off Your Brow

**Disclaimer**: never did and never will own it. J.K. Rowling does.   
**Spoilers**: Order of the Phoenix   
Thank you to my beta, Nakhash Mekashefah!

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** Living On Borrowed Time - Shake The Cloud From Off Your Brow **

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He could still remember the feeling of slowly dying, even though he knew it was not truly happening. Voldemort was weakening and would be easy prey to Harry Potter and his allies because _he_ was draining the Dark Lord's life force, yet he felt useless in the final fight. He wanted it to finally be over and done with. Then she entered, like a light in his darkness, and she stopped his slow descent into madness. 

He distinctly remembered her leaving for the fight and, though he couldn't begrudge her for wanting to be in the middle of the action, he regretted that she had left him in his last moments. Watching her as she moved toward him, he knew there were countless things he had wanted to tell her, yet he also knew he would never breathe a word of them. It was far too late and he didn't want her to live with any regrets for what might – or might not – have been. 

"I thought I wouldn't be seeing you again," he said, quite mortified to hear that his tone was more wistful than mocking. 

Fortunately, she didn't reply with some soppy line. A light smile crossed her lips as she answered, "It was getting boring." 

"So you preferred to return to the bedside of a dying man?" he asked, cocking his eyebrow quizzically. 

"You may be a lot of things, Severus, but you are never boring." 

She sat by his bed and handed him a glass of wine. 

"Dead man's last drink?" 

"Your favourite wine. I thought we could share a glass together, before… well, just before." 

"Where's Poppy?" 

"She's in the library trying to find a cure for your… problem." 

She was lying and he knew it. She had never been very good at lying to him. But he didn't care if she had stunned Poppy, or anything else, as long as he could spend his last moments with her. He didn't even have the heart to scold her as he might have done some days earlier, telling her that if she insisted on telling lies, at least she could practice to make them sound believable. 

She looked at the clock above his bed and raised her glass. Silently, he imitated her; they both knew they were running out of time. He looked at his glass; almost smiling at his near whimsical observation that the colour of the wine matched the robes she was wearing that day, he took a sip. The taste was altered. He didn't put it past Hermione to have mixed something in his drink to make his end more bearable. To be truthful, he wasn't in a hurry to feel the Killing Curse or whatever nicety Harry had in store for Voldemort. He took another sip; he knew he should have recognised the potion she added, but his mind was curiously blank. He looked at her. 

"I'm glad you brewed the potion," he said softly. 

She had a tight smile. 

"I didn't want to." 

"But I knew you would do it. You were the only one able to brew it and understand its importance. You wouldn't deny me this small part in the Dark Lord's death." 

Before she could answer, he felt a sharp pain in his chest. Hermione caught his glass as he fell backwards and the last words he heard were, "Goodbye, Severus." 

Then darkness engulfed him and he knew no more. 

Those last moments continued to haunt him. He now knew what potion had been mixed with his wine and, with each recurrence of memory, he savoured the irony of his thanking her for brewing the potion. He should have known that, even though not truly denying him his revenge against Voldemort, she would do such a Gryffindor thing as to deny him full redemption through death. He blamed himself for his blindness; he knew her better than anyone else – or so he flattered himself – and her quiet resignation to the whole plot should have alarmed him. But at the time, he had simply been selfishly grateful not to hear any recriminations from her. 

Now, even if he had to dedicate his entire life to the task, he would find a way to cure her. She had wanted him to be free, but he would never truly be free as long as she was trapped in this endless sleep. No matter how genuine her gift had been, he was still living a borrowed life and he didn't want this kind of life anymore, not now when his arm was finally bare of the Dark Mark. 

So, for her sake, he had resigned himself to doing something he would never have done for himself. He had given it much thought while brewing the potion to rid himself of the Dark Mark. Each time he had arrived at the same conclusion. Which was why he was now standing in front of the door of the Potions master who had taken Hermione on as his apprentice and trained her for her current position as Potions mistress. The two wizards didn't like each other very much and Severus mentally gritted his teeth at having to ask for his assistance. 

He had felt the tingling of the wards being activated as he approached the house. By now, the owner was aware of the arrival of a visitor. He knocked at the door. 

It opened silently as a distant voice called out, "Come in, Severus, I was expecting you." 

He wondered momentarily if it was some privilege of old wizards to appear irritatingly omniscient or if Albus had, once again, meddled in his private affairs, and then realised that only one person could have warned the old Potions master of his possible arrival. He felt a curious sensation of betrayal, as if he was just a toy in her hands, as if all the protestations in her letter had been lies to manipulate him into playing her game. He was almost tempted to turn away, but he had his honour to maintain, even if a Gryffindor mocked it. Taking a deep breath, he crossed the threshold. 

The door closed softly behind him, though he didn't hear the latch click. Glancing behind, he noticed that the door was ajar, as if to leave him some means of escape. Yes, a trapped snake could be most dangerous and it appeared his host was not eager to entertain such a guest. A wry smile twisted his lips before he regained his usual closed countenance and faced the only other door in the parlour. The sound of steps could be heard approaching the room. From the amount of time it was taking for the person to appear, Severus guessed that the voice had been enhanced magically. He sighed inwardly and, while waiting for his host to appear, took the time to wonder fleetingly why he couldn't just follow the Slytherin code of self-interest and forget all about this mad quest. 

An old wizard entered the room and studied him at length. They had known each other for quite a long time and it wasn't difficult for him to decipher the rigid stance of the stern wizard in front of him or to guess at the doubts assailing him. 

His eyes slightly hooded, as if he would have preferred to remain silent, the older man spoke. 

"In truth, I wasn't completely sure you would come. She only said that you _may_ come and, considering our relationship of mutual animosity, I didn't think it likely." 

Relief flooded Severus. She hadn't taken his compliance for granted! The sense of betrayal lifted. 

"She said that your twisted sense of honour would push you to come. I didn't know you had any notion of what honour was." 

Severus glared at the old wizard. 

"Why you barmy old codger, don't think because I'm standing here you can–" 

At the same time, his interlocutor said, "Ah, I apologise. I am supposed to forget all our differences for now." 

A bit ashamed at forgetting his purpose for being here, Severus fell silent. 

The other wizard made as if nothing had happened and added softly, "Follow me." 

They entered a smaller room filled with books – presumably the library – and he waved Severus toward a seat. 

"So, before anything else, how is Hermione?" 

Severus froze. 

"What exactly did she tell you?" he asked carefully. 

"That perhaps you would come here to talk about a rare potion and that she would be incapable of helping you herself. It must have cost her to make such a statement." 

"Rare potion, indeed. I wish I had never heard of it. Of course, the war wouldn't be over now and I would be dead, but she– oh, never mind," muttered Severus. 

"And she asked me to put aside any resentment I have against you, whether it be because of her or Remus Lupin." 

Severus's face grimaced into a twisted smile. Remus Lupin had been the reason for the first of their 'infamous' rows, when he had discovered her trying to make changes to the Wolfsbane potion. She had been the one brewing it regularly for Remus, Severus having washed his hands of the task with glee. She knew the process by heart and also how instable the mixture was. She had yelled at him that if he didn't stop behaving like a child, she would dose Remus with Veritaserum, if necessary, and thus prove to him that his resentment against the werewolf was ridiculous. The mere memory of it made him wish he could still have such passionate arguments with her. 

The older wizard didn't notice that Severus's attention had wandered; he was lost in his own memories of discussions with Hermione. With a start he returned to the present. 

"Oh well, better you should read her letter. Then you will know exactly what I know about her plans. _Accio_ letter!" 

He handed the parchment to Severus. Seeing words he had not yet read, written in her familiar handwriting, almost made him believe that she wasn't on her sick bed in the Hospital Wing, until the date at the top of the letter disabused him of this little fantasy. She had written it the very day she had given him the potion for the second time. Sighing internally, he began to read. 

_Dear Master,_

_I hope this letter finds you well. I wish it could be more of a casual letter, but it isn't. I have a favour to ask of you. Severus and I encountered a problem with a rare potion recently and I am unable to help him. The only one I can truly think of who would be able to help him progress is you; I know he will come to the same conclusion. Though I sincerely hope he will, for once, listen to me and drop this matter, I fear his twisted sense of honour won't leave him in peace until the problem is solved. I find myself both hoping he will and will not come to you._

_In case he does, would you please, for me, forget all the hatreds remaining between you? I know some of them concern Remus and myself, but Severus has long since come to peace with them. Please, Master, consider my request carefully. You know as I do that Severus is a proud man and if he does come to you, it's because he believes in the righteousness of his cause. Do not mock him and deprive him of his best ally because of pride. He makes the first step in coming, with a non-spoken offer of truce, and I wish you to make the second one, allowing both of you to work companionably._

_Of course, it may be that, for once, I made him see reason and he doesn't come. I truly don't know what he will do. If you hear of him living a peaceful life, then forget all about my request; destroy this letter and know that this is my dearest wish for him._

_With all my affections and gratitude,_

_Hermione_

Severus looked up at the old wizard who was waiting patiently for him to finish reading the letter before speaking. 

"It's a strange letter, isn't it? For a Gryffindor she's quite able to keep a secret. I can't for the life of me understand a word of what she said." 

"She's known how to keep a secret since her third year at least. She maybe told you of possessing a Time Turner and of being aware that Lupin was a werewolf almost from the beginning." 

"I had heard. Now, out with this secret! And how is Hermione?" 

"Well, she tells the truth in her letter when stating her pleading is for herself. She probably didn't tell you everything because she feared you would come charging into Hogwarts asking for my hide." 

"If you harmed her in any way…" growled the old wizard, half-rising from his seat. 

"Not directly, but indirectly, yes. And I came to you so you would help me to undo what she did." 

Hearing Severus Snape ask for help was a rarity and the old wizard sat back, in deep thought. 

"I have the feeling it will be a long story," he remarked before calling a house-elf for tea. 

"First of all, I'm supposedly dead. Among those knowing of my 'death', very few are aware of the truth. If it were not for Hermione, I truly would be dead now. But she had to succumb to Gryffindor brashness and save my life." 

"It's a habit with you to have your life saved by Gryffindors," said the old wizard, frowning at the first sip of his tea and adding a sugar lump. "But you always made a point to repay them for it. I guess that's what she called 'your twisted sense of honour'." 

Severus chose to overlook that last comment. 

"I wouldn't begrudge Hermione for it as I resented Potter. In fact, I would have lived with it without any problem if not for the nature of the potion involved." 

"Ah, the mysterious potion!" 

"It's a Dark potion, naturally, and don't glare at me like that. I didn't want her to use it. It was intended for me and me alone." 

He told him everything, how he had found a way to weaken Voldemort, how Hermione had brewed the potion, and how she had turned it against him. Even the last letter she had written to him of which he had left a copy with Albus. Several times, the old wizard had looked as if he were ready to hex him, but he calmed slightly while reading her letter, the same way Severus hoped it had calmed Harry and Ron. 

"Yes, it sounds like Hermione," he said wistfully. "Of course I will help you." 

Severus responded with a smile of relief. Slightly surprised by the sight, the old wizard thought inwardly that he couldn't remember a time he had seen him smile. 

"How much time do we have?" he asked practically. 

"As long as needed. As this book states," he said, producing Voldemort's book of spells from his bag, "the sleeping spell she cast on herself is a kind of time-freezing spell. I am virtually immortal." 

He stopped for a moment, letting the information sink in. He hoped it was telling of Hermione's faith in him and not that it would be seen as Gryffindor foolishness. 

"But," he continued quite cautiously, "even without taking my own life into consideration, we shouldn't be looking for just a way to reverse the potion. I'm afraid that, were I to die, she would express her resentment most forcefully after all the effort she had expended for such an event not to occur. She would most likely hate you for your hand in it and I would not wish the wrath of Miss Granger on anyone." 

"True, that she would. Very well, we will begin to look for a remedy tomorrow. You will be my guest for as long as needed. No one will know you are here, since I rarely receive visitors. And maybe this book with help us," he added, eyeing the book of spells. 

Severus recognised that look; it was the same as Hermione's when she had spotted a book she was dying to read, the look of someone eager to lose himself or herself in the numerous pages of an unknown tome. 

"You are more than welcome to read it," he said, deciding to offer it as an olive branch. 

He took a sip of his own cup of tea, noticing it was now cold, but choosing to ignore it. He was resolved to make sure that if the thawing of relations with the other wizard should revert to their former levels of icy reserve, it would be through no fault of his own. 

"Now, tell me about your current research," he asked, genuinely curious now that the first step had been made. 

His host seemed surprised by his interest and almost choked on his tea before being able to answer. 

"Dementors. Two of them are in this house, by the way. The room is isolated and strongly warded, so you won't feel a thing, but I prefer you to know." 

Severus nodded slowly. The old Potions master had always had eccentric ideas and studying Dementors was just one of them. It usually allowed him to follow a wide field of interests. In a way, Severus envied him his willingness to research the unusual, although this particular subject matter wouldn't do well for his own peace of mind. He had a very bad memory of Dementors. Yet, despite this, for the first time since he had awakened, Severus enjoyed a night of sound sleep. And, as the dawn rose, the two wizards began their work. 


	4. How Thunder Rends The Mountain Oaks A Su...

**Disclaimer**: never did and never will own it. J.K. Rowling does.   
**Spoilers**: Order of the Phoenix   
Thank you to my beta, Nakhash Mekashefah!

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** Living On Borrowed Time - How Thunder Rends The Mountain Oaks A Sunder **

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At Hogwarts, things were not going so well. Somehow, the news of Severus's death had spread and, no matter how hard Ron and Harry were working to hide the fact, Hermione's disappearance was bound to cause surprise. The students at Hogwarts could hardly avoid telling their parents that there was no Potions teacher ever since Voldemort's death, even though few of them formulated it that way. Indeed, nobody made the connection between the death of the Dark Lord and the disappearance of the young Muggle-born witch; and those who thought about it judged that the idea, by itself, was ludicrous. 

Despite Poppy's refusal – but in some ways, to her relief – Hermione's body had been moved to the quarters she had occupied previously, so that no student would mistakenly see her in the Hospital Wing. Poppy had argued that it was her duty to keep watch over her, in case she awoke or anything happened, but on the other hand, the usually even-tempered matron was getting depressed at seeing Hermione motionless, despite her best efforts. Albus, knowing fully that Hermione hadn't done things by halves and wouldn't move until Severus's return – and maybe not even then – decreed that she had to be moved for the sake of protecting Severus's life. 

But it was not enough to stop the suspicions. There had been no mention of Hermione in the casualties of the fight against the Death Eaters, no mention of her death, nothing. Even the Death Eaters themselves all denied having something to do with her. She had just disappeared, like maybe hundreds of others everyday; but she wasn't one amongst the multitudes, she was one of Harry Potter's friends and yet, strangely, Harry himself didn't seem overly worried about her disappearance. He had to know where she was and there were some who had decided that it might well have a link with Severus Snape's death, since her working relationship with him was well known. 

That was Percy Weasley's thought and, still furious about the offhanded manner in which his younger – and incapable – brother had stolen his destined position, he had decided to find Hermione, guessing there was a secret behind all this and probably not an innocent one. A scandal was all he needed to destroy the career of the young Minister for Magic. Ron, now used to keeping an eye on his adversaries, didn't take long to understand what his brother had in mind, and knew it was time to respect the promise he had made to Hermione, the one of protecting Severus no matter what. 

Minerva was working in her office when a sudden blaze in her fireplace made her jump on her feet, her wand at the ready. She relaxed upon seeing whose head had appeared in the fire. 

"Professor McGonagall," said Ron urgently, "I have only a very short time. Percy is coming to Hogwarts hoping to find Hermione and he intends to question you all. Are you sure she cannot be found?" 

"Mr Weasley, you know as well as I do that Severus is a very secret man and that his quarters are difficult to find for anyone who doesn't know where to look. Hermione's quarters have the same particularity and, furthermore, Albus added on to them the same spell as the one on the Philosopher's Stone." 

She fell silent a moment, listening attentively, and added, "I must go. It seems your brother has already arrived and is provoking quite a commotion." 

Ron nodded and his head disappeared from the flames. Minerva sighed, put on her sternest face, and left for the Great Hall. 

Percy was there, his voice enhanced with a _Sonorus_ charm so as to be heard by the entire castle, calling all the students to him. Peeves was floating above, mimicking him, but with sentences a lot less solemn than those used by the young wizard, and some students were hard put not to laugh aloud. 

"Mr Weasley, may I know the reason for this mayhem?" inquired Minerva, looking at him from above her glasses as if he was nothing more than an unruly first year. 

"I'm here on a mission for the Ministry, Professor McGonagall," he said pompously. 

Minerva only raised a quizzical eyebrow, fully knowing he was lying but unable to say so without betraying Ron. 

"Really?" she replied noncommittally. "May I see your order then?" 

"I am an official of the Ministry, right-hand man of the Minister–" he protested. 

"You _were_ right-hand man of the Minister, Mr Weasley, and considering Cornelius Fudge's relations, I would avoid claiming it aloud if I were you. As for you being an official, I do not know what position is yours in the new Ministry. So I ask again: where is your order?" 

"Do you doubt my word, Professor?" 

"I do, Mr Weasley," she said placidly. "You are here, looking self-righteous, but you have yet denied my just demand. In the absence of Dumbledore – which I'm sure you know about – I am responsible for these children, and that you took the initiative of gathering them without even consulting me doesn't tell of pure intentions toward them. You may or may not be an official of the current Ministry, but even officials are human and may fail, lie or deceive. So, show me this order or leave this place and don't come back without either an order or a person well-established in the Ministry." 

Percy, pale with rage, couldn't do anything but leave. Minerva sighed, knowing he wouldn't forgive her this humiliation in front of the whole school, especially as Peeves had followed him to the gates, shrieking gleefully, "And don't come back!" 

The respite was only temporary. Even if Percy dared ask Ron about an order, the young Minister had no reason to refuse him, unless he wanted to arouse his suspicions. She had no doubt he would be back, with all the official documents she might think of asking. But still, it gave some more time to Severus for, like Ron, Albus, and several others, she hadn't even thought of Severus leaving Hermione in her current state. 

Percy's visit was the subject of all conversations for the day – even the paintings and ghosts were talking about it and remembering when he was himself a student at Hogwarts – and bets were on for the day he would return. But, among the carefree chatter and the mocking comments, some students were worried. Lawrence Higgs, leader of the Slytherin group, was frowning heavily. He had won his place after a hard-fought struggle, for even though he was known as Terence Higgs's brother, a cousin of his, to discredit him, had made public the fact that, contrary to the official version, Terence's mother hadn't died in childbirth, but rather one month before Lawrence's birth. Thus Lawrence was an illegitimate child and several students in Slytherin resented him for that – especially since the cousin had hinted that Lawrence's mother's blood wasn't, perhaps, as pure as might be desirable for a Slytherin. 

"It's a bad omen for Snape," he said pensively. 

"How so? Snape's dead," replied another Slytherin, Eric Rackharrow. 

"Granger. She disappeared at the same time as You-Know-Who. I bet Weasley is trying to link the two facts: Snape's death and Granger's disappearance." 

"There were at least two months in-between!" 

"I know. Yet I have the feeling there's something weird about this story. Neither Potter nor Weasley seem that worried about their best friend, as if they know something nobody else knows. And Mr Pompous would be intent in discrediting his brother. On the other hand, you remember Granger's loyalty to Snape. They had that row about the use of advanced Dark Arts mixed with Potions that everyone heard in the castle, and the following day, she assigned four detentions with Filch to Gryffindors for bad-mouthing him! It seems quite strange to me that she didn't do anything, if only to avenge him." 

"She was among those attacking You-Know-Who the final day," volunteered the only Ravenclaw of the group, a girl whose father belonged to the current Ministry. 

"But she never approached him, if we are to believe Creevey's article. Only Potter came near; the others dealt with the Death Eaters. I can't remember a thing about her in his report, by the way," Lawrence added, frowning. 

"Because there was none," said a new voice. 

Lawrence turned around to face the newcomer, a slim girl with huge blue eyes. 

"Hello, Isadora," he said neutrally. 

"Hello, Lawrence." 

Isadora Nott, like her brother Theodore Nott under Draco Malfoy's leadership, didn't belong to any faction. She was solitary and liked it that way. Contrary to other people, Lawrence had never insisted on including her, only maintaining an open invitation to join his group. She respected him for that and she treated him as the person he was and not as 'the illegitimate and maybe half-blood son of the Higgs family'. 

She was a student who nobody knew how to take because of her ambiguous position: her father was a notorious Death Eater – and she had never tried to hide the fact – and her brother was the youngest wizard in the Wizengamot, a zealous accusatory of the Death Eaters. Isadora liked to call her family situation 'a reversed Crouch syndrome', even though very few people understood what she meant. It seemed there were very few things that escaped her notice and she was privy to many secrets thanks to both her father and brother. Isadora was well known to be as silent as a tomb when needed; she often thought that words were overrated anyway. 

"You know something we don't?" asked Lawrence casually. 

She shrugged. 

"She had a Time Turner. Her tiredness at the end was not natural." 

Lawrence nodded slowly. He knew he could trust Isadora to notice such a thing and interpret it properly, though the habits of her brother probably helped her there, since Theodore was renowned for heavy use of a Time Turner. 

"It changes quite a few things," he said thoughtfully. 

"Indeed. Snape is officially dead, yet at his trial, Malfoy said something strange about him: that we would never know if Snape did what he did for the good cause or for the Knights of Walpurgis. So, it seems that Snape did something we don't know about, since he was killed by You-Know-Who – if we are to believe the official version." 

"But it couldn't be in relation with Granger! Even a poison wouldn't wait two months to take effect!" said Eric. 

"A poison, no. But instructions of coming back in time, two months before, would be enough. She would trust him." 

"And then?" 

"Then she never came back from the past. And trust Weasley to deduce from that something on the line of Snape offering her to You-Know-Who to save his own hide, or whatever." 

"But that wouldn't do anything for the 'good cause'!" 

"True. But first of all, I'm pretty sure only a few people remember what Malfoy said and, on the other hand, the current Minister defended Snape while apparently not caring for Granger. If Fudge's lap-dog pushes them in the 'right' direction, how many people will think there was a coalition between Snape and Weasley to make Granger disappear; maybe because she was going to pass information to You-Know-Who?" 

Lawrence frowned, chewing his lower lip. 

"It seems very complicated. I'm getting confused." 

Isadora had a secret smile and Lawrence was sure she had done it on purpose. She had offered a few ideas and mixed them together into a very weird result. But if she could, so could Percy Weasley, and he would write a very dry report about it. Lawrence didn't know the link between Severus and Hermione, but deep inside, he knew it was the direction Percy would look into. And if there was something Lawrence wanted to defend, it was Severus's memory. Perhaps he had been the most hated teacher – except Dolores Umbridge, but Lawrence hadn't known her – but the Slytherins were proud of their hero and his integrity. He hadn't been a Death Eater – except maybe for a short time – had spied on them, had protected Potter and countless others. He was the light of redemption for the Slytherins; he was the proof not all of them were destined to become Death Eaters, that 'Slytherin' wasn't a synonym for 'follower of Voldemort'. In those times when the Slytherins were trying to restore their image, they wouldn't easily renounce their hero. 

"We can't let him down," he said finally and was happy to see Isadora nod imperceptibly. "We will have to silence the other students if needed and lie to Weasley, but until we know more, Granger left of her own accord." 

In front of him, Isadora smiled slowly and it suddenly came to him that Percy had no chance against her. 

Percy came back one week later, with a self-important smile. Once again, Minerva had been alerted by Ron and was able to wait for him at the gates. He handed her his order, signed and stamped by the Ministry. Minerva looked at them closely, hiding a smile when she noticed that none of the signatures belonged to people faithful to the new Ministry. 

"Go ahead," she said calmly. 

Percy nodded curtly and left. 

He hadn't reached the Great Hall before a tight group of Slytherins came toward him. He was immediately on his guard when he noticed from the positions of the boys that they were in fact hiding someone in the middle of the group. 

"Show yourself!" he ordered, his fingers curled around his wand. 

They hesitated, and slowly the first row slid to the sides, revealing a slim girl with her head bent down. Percy stepped forward and she looked up. He was immediately caught in the gaze of huge innocent blue eyes looking at him. Isadora's lips held a shy smile and Lawrence had to hide his smirk. It was already obvious that Percy was fully under her charm. At that very moment, Percy decided it was totally useless to gather all the children. Asking the Slytherins should be more than enough. Dolores Umbridge had trusted them during her year at Hogwarts and had gathered valuable information very quickly. Nobody was better than a Slytherin to know more than they should know, except maybe curfew breakers like Harry, Ron and Hermione. 

"Tell me, young lady, would you know where I could found Miss Granger?" he asked, with a smile he figured was attractive. 

Isadora opened her huge eyes even wider. 

"But, sir, she left the very day You-Know-Who was defeated!" 

"She left for the fight and never came back?" 

"Oh no, sir, she came back and left afterwards." 

"Was she worried, sad, anything?" 

Isadora frowned, as if trying to remember. 

"She looked like someone who had just completed a task and could now concentrate on something more important. Like someone who hadn't anything left to do here. Which was true, wasn't it? She was here only to help Professor Snape, for what I understood." 

"But she left you without a Potions teacher." 

Isadora seemed pensive. 

"True, but I don't think that's what she wanted to be. She preferred research. Maybe that's what she did. Maybe she buried herself in a lab." 

Percy thanked her and left straight to Minerva's office, intent on asking her for the whole list of Hermione's contacts and friends. He would see them each after the other; but then, Isadora's last remark had hit: it would perfectly be like Hermione to forget time, friends, and reality in research. 

"Children, Professor McGonagall thanks you for your acting skills," said Nearly-Headless Nick, appearing behind the group of Slytherins after Percy's departure. 

"Thank you, Sir Nicholas," said Lawrence, seeing that Isadora wasn't going to say a word. 

"And she said to give fifty points to Slytherin thanks to Miss Nott," added the ghost, before leaving them. 

"That's funny, he didn't ask any questions about Snape's death," remarked Lawrence. 

"We only have the word of Death Eaters that Snape is dead," replied Isadora with a distant voice. 

"And?" 

She turned toward him with a luminous smile. 

"Death Eaters are notorious liars." 

And Percy, being the right-hand man of Cornelius Fudge, would have known that fact. Which put the whole situation under a new light. Lawrence shivered at the implications. 

"We will protect him of false rumours," said Isadora quietly, looking at him intently. 

"So he's alive?" 

"Most probably, or Weasley would not be here inquiring after Granger." 

"Why so?" 

"Because, if Snape were dead, Granger would still be here scowling, instead of him; she knew his dedication and she would never have failed him that way. She would have taken up his job… unless she had something else more important to do. And Weasley may be an idiot but he knows that. Snape has to be alive." 


	5. Peace And I Are Strangers Grown

**Disclaimer**: never did and never will own it. J.K. Rowling does.   
**Spoilers**: Order of the Phoenix   
Thank you to my beta, Nakhash Mekashefah!

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** Living On Borrowed Time - Peace And I Are Strangers Grown **

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For an unknown reason, has decided to skip my paragraph separators and I can't manage to put them back, so forgive me for the quite indigestible formatting...

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At dinner, the two Potions masters were eating silently, served by an equally silent house-elf, the only one there was in the house. In a way, Severus was glad there was only one house-elf, since he wasn't exactly fond of the little beings; he knew of the problems Lucius Malfoy had had with Dobby – in their favour, but still – and he remembered that Kreacher had been, for a great part, responsible for the disaster at the Ministry in the Dream Team's fifth year. And he also knew now that it was Dobby who had stolen the Gillyweed from his stores back in her fourth year – Hermione had told him so. 

Actually, 'told' was maybe the wrong word to use. 'Yelled' or 'shouted' might better correspond to the tone of voice she had then used. It had been their second row and the subject had been – strangely enough, for Severus would have expected him to be the subject of the _first_ row – Harry Potter. 

"Harry, Harry, Harry!" she had yelled. "With you, it's always Harry's fault, even if he's miles from the place where the thing has happened! If the sun doesn't come out tomorrow, will it be Harry's fault too?" 

"Probably," he had replied, just to irritate her. "Think! You know my stores better than anybody else, except me, and you know how dangerous some of the ingredients are. Why do you think I'm so adamant in keeping the little ignoramuses out of them?" 

"I know exactly why and that's the reason why I never let Harry near your stores. I stole from them myself, but then, you didn't think better of my intelligence back then." 

Still now, he could remember the disappointment in her tone and he could also remember the only affective move he had had toward her during their three years of work together: he had gently tapped her nose with his finger. "Of course, I had a higher opinion of your intelligence than of Potter's. After all, you are the student who managed to solve my puzzle on the way to the Philosopher's Stone." 

"_That_ test was brilliant," she had whispered as if despite herself. 

He had bowed ironically. "Thank you, my lady. Truly, my heart was wilting in the absence of your recognition." 

She had answered with unflattering names, but he hadn't cared. What he had cared for, though, was to set up wards to keep house-elves from his office and stores, afterwards. 

All in all, Severus couldn't say it was bad being where he was. He could research all he wanted without caring for the 'dunderheads' and there were no interruptions from Albus and no call from the Dark Lord. He even managed to be civil with the other wizard in the house – the courtesy being returned – so it could have been far worse. Except that he had the impression of not doing anything good. They knew how to awake Hermione, but it wasn't anything new. They had even found a way to break the link created by the blood potion between Hermione and Severus but it would only result in Severus's almost immediate death were they to use the reversing potion. They were not one iota closer to their goal than they had been when they had begun and Severus's patience was wearing thin. 

He was usually a patient man when it came about potions and research, but now, knowing Hermione's life was in the balance, any delay sent him in a fit and it was getting harder for him to control his temper. He didn't want her to awake in a world where all her friends were dead because he had taken too long to find the cure. 

Moodily he ate, watching the wizard seated in front of him. As a Slytherin, he would never be caught staring, but it didn't prevent him from studying him at length. Arsenius Jigger, known by generations of Hogwarts students as the author of _Magical Drafts and Potions_, the Potions book they had since the first year. Not half of them knew that he was also the creator of the Wolfsbane potion. Hermione had known, of course, which was why she had sought him out at first when Severus rejected her application for apprenticeship. 

Arsenius Jigger was renowned to be solitary and quite an eccentric. Few people knew he belonged to the Order of the Phoenix and even Alastor Moody, who had once mentioned his real name to Harry, didn't know Arsenius Jigger for who he truly was. For Arsenius Jigger's real identity was Caradoc Dearborn, a member of the original Order of the Phoenix, who had been missing for quite a few years. Naturally, Albus knew that his supposedly missing member of the Order was the discoverer of the Wolfsbane potion and it certainly had something to do with the fact that he had quite encouraged Hermione in contacting him in the first place. 

Severus wondered if Caradoc knew the whole story about why he had so successfully escaped Voldemort. Somehow, he doubted that Albus had told him about the role the young Severus had played. Disappearing and then appearing under another new identity was all well and good, but the Dark Lord would not have forgotten his quarry without any good reasons. And the real reason why Voldemort had stopped looking for Caradoc Dearborn is because Severus, then a young Death Eater, had brought him the proof of Caradoc's death. It had been the ultimate test of faith from Albus. 

Severus, as a Death Eater, knew perfectly how Caradoc Dearborn looked and he had recognised without hesitation the Potions master Albus had assigned him to. Even though he now was called Arsenius Jigger, there were no doubts he was in fact the missing member of the Order of the Phoenix, the one Voldemort was so adamant to kill. He could have betrayed him there and then and gained the approval of the Dark Lord. Instead, several weeks after having begun his apprenticeship with 'Arsenius Jigger', he brought back to Albus the body of an old Muggle, dead through no fault of his, who had the particularity of looking quite like Caradoc Dearborn. It had been enough to fool Voldemort and the true Caradoc had been able to pursue his role as Arsenius Jigger with complete peace of mind. After all, hiding in plain view was still one of the best hiding places. 

But apparently, Albus hadn't told the whole story to Caradoc and Severus wasn't about to do so, though maybe he would have used it to pressure the old Potions master had he refused to help him. He knew only too well how it felt to be indebted to someone for the rest of one's life. And then, Caradoc had been his Potions master and while Severus's skills in Potions had always been quite superior to any of his fellow students, Caradoc had truly honed them, bringing them close to what they were now. Severus hated the fact that he owed anything to the wizard, for Caradoc, who had known since the beginning who Severus was – a Death Eater – had never trusted him and had never handled the young wizard with kid gloves. Severus still resented having to use his book as a reference for the students. 

"Remind me once again what exactly we are looking for," said Caradoc with a weary voice, looking at his pastry as if it was containing a dangerous poison. 

Severus didn't call him 'hare-brained' for asking such a question like he might have done with someone else. The older wizard's methods were familiar to him and he knew they were looking for an overlooked clue in the umpteenth repetition of the facts. Each time, he racked his brains to remember something new and he tried to rephrase it in order to perhaps discover a whole new meaning to a little fact. 

"We're looking for something I call 'Hermione's cure' in the feeble attempt to forget it's something to save my own hide," replied Severus with dark humour. "The only cure she really needs is the counter-spell to the sleeping charm she cast on herself and we already know it. It's in this book," he added, his fingers brushing the cover of Voldemort's book. 

"Very well. Then what are we trying to cure?" 

Severus glared at Caradoc. 

"We're trying to find a way to counter two things. First of all, a potion that I created myself some time ago and that at first I wanted to design as to be irreversible. Fortunately, thinking of the Dark Lord's abysmal level in Potions – since he had to use Pettigrew's skills – I neglected to do so and even wrote down some notes about the counter potion. Secondly, the curse the Dark Lord kindly laid on me." 

"Describe that curse." 

"I'm coming to that," muttered Severus. "Did you treat Hermione with the same contempt and distrust?" 

Caradoc started before snapping angrily, "She's not you!" 

"Excellent remark. If you cared to clarify it a bit more…" 

"You're a Slytherin and you were a young Death Eater at the time! Everybody knew it! You were bound to become one, it was obvious to anyone in Hogwarts! Why would I have trusted you? I told Albus over and over that he was making a mistake but–" 

"But he never listened to you, in this irritating manner of his. And now, you know he was right, don't you?" he asked with deceptive softness. 

"Albus could have been misled! Slytherins are cunning and he's too trusting. It was too early to really trust you and–" 

"He knew what he was doing!" shouted Severus, suddenly standing up. "I had already proven myself, _Caradoc Dearborn_!" 

Thunderstruck, Caradoc could only open and close his mouth like a fish. 

"But Albus didn't tell you, did he? He didn't tell you I was already part of the Order at that time! No, I was his little secret! It would not have done to tell Potter and Black that their favourite punch-bag was someone who might just be decent! No, I had to remain the scum of Hogwarts, it served Albus's purposes." 

But Caradoc wasn't listening to him and didn't comment on the scathing tone. 

"Since when do you know?" 

"Since the first time I set foot in the room you called a laboratory. Since the very first time I set my eyes on 'Arsenius Jigger', the wizard who was going to teach me how to become a Potions master, I knew that I was facing Caradoc Dearborn, a member of the Order of the Phoenix, actively wanted by the Dark Lord. It was for me the occasion of becoming his right hand only months after joining the Death Eaters but it was also for Albus the occasion of testing me." 

Severus's voice was bitter when he said those words, remembering exactly what it had meant for him, all the lies it had involved. Caradoc rose from his seat. 

"I think I know Albus well enough to guess what it really means," he said, his tone suddenly unsure. "If something had happened to me, if the Death Eaters had caught me, he would have considered you guilty, even if you had had nothing to do with it. He would have thought that you had betrayed me to them. So you had to protect me with your silence, with your life. Why didn't you ever say a word about it, Severus?" 

"Forget it. I never wanted to talk about this. It's the past, now." 

"I owe you–" began Caradoc, seizing his arm. 

"You owe me nothing!" replied Severus harshly, jerking free. "You know nothing of what it means, to owe a life debt to someone and to never be able to repay it! We have to concentrate on the Dark Lord's curse!" 

"At least, tell me you forgive me for having been such a fool as to underestimate you. I should have known that you would recognise me." 

Severus looked lengthily at him before shrugging. "You never saw _me_ when you taught me. You always considered me to be the young idiot who had believed the Dark Lord's promises and lies. You never thought I could have changed." 

Caradoc had the grace to look ashamed and was quite surprised that Severus chose not to boast on the subject but rather returned to the problem they had been working on. 

"The curse the Dark Lord laid on me… It's keyed to me, _designed_ for me, which can only mean that he knew for quite a while I was a traitor to him before he cast it. It's a sort of vampire spell, which sucks life force _and_ magic from me. As it's specifically _my_ life and magic, it allows me to survive by using the potion I created, since I live then on someone else's life and magic. If the spell were cast on someone being in good health, I think it would take maybe one week to wear him down to death. As the Dark Lord was not kind enough to even give me one week, he cast bouts of Cruciatus on me, along with some other nasty curses, and my fellow comrades had their revenge in store also, which explains why I was already at death's door when I managed to reach Hogwarts." 

"And Poppy couldn't do anything to give you the week of respite?" asked Caradoc, frowning thoughtfully. 

"Poppy cast all the healing spells she could, but even the best healing charm can't work properly if the living force is being eaten away by a dark spell. But as soon as I was bound to the Dark Lord, her spells took effect, using _his_ life force to heal me, since mine was reduced to nothing." 

"So now, you are become a vampire on life force and magic." 

"Not really. I'd think I'm worse than a vampire. A vampire needs only now and then to drink blood from a living person. I need their life force constantly. Were I without it for more than one hour, the curse would drain whatever is left of mine – if there is still some left – and the world would be rid of my presence in no time. But Hermione wouldn't allow it," he added with a wry smile. "Typical Gryffindor." 

"So what we really need is to find you a sort of foreign source of life force you would be the only one to use, an unlimited one, or at least, lasting as long as yours would have." 

"Not only a life force, but a source of magic also. Sorry to say, but living without magic would be for me worse than being dead." 

Caradoc smiled. "Hermione told me once that in her first year at Hogwarts, she ranked being expelled as being worse than dead." 

"It would be like her, the annoying chit. Always with her hand in the air, except when she lost fifty points to Gryffindor in one night." 

He settled down comfortably in his armchair, slightly moving the cup of tea in his hand and watching the dark liquid twirl lazily around. For a moment, both wizards were silent, thinking of the young witch they were trying to free from her stasis and yet at the same time, quite not realising she was no more around, bustling with life and endless questions. 

Severus was the first one to break the silence, enunciating his sentence as if he was hazarding a guess, back on those years when he was Caradoc's student and was harshly rebuffed for any mistake or unrealistic idea. "My hope was that there was a potion that could imitate a life force, an artificial one, but it seems that my hope was a foolish one. We didn't find anything and, for once, I have to congratulate the Dark Lord for his imagination. He did a fine job on this curse." 

"There _would_ be something, but I don't think you would wish that," said Caradoc cautiously. 

"Don't tell me about unicorn blood. And don't believe any second that there is a single drop of it in the potion I created. I never stepped back from using dark ingredients in my potions, but never unicorn blood. I would then be a potential second Dark Lord. I _know_ my potion–" 

"How did you call it?" interrupted Caradoc. "I'm tired of referring to it by 'the potion you created' or 'your potion'." 

Severus had a brief laugh. "The Nosferatu Draught." 

"Back on vampires." 

"Quit that term," growled Severus. "I've been called 'overgrown bat' more times than I can remember and from bat to vampire, there is only one step to be made. You wouldn't believe the number of people thinking I'm truly a vampire, even though I've been under the sun in front of countless witnesses. Anyway, as I was saying, I know the Nosferatu Draught may seem to have the same properties as unicorn blood, but I didn't use that ingredient. There are other ingredients whose combination would lead to a similar result, without the price to pay, but naturally, it's not as strong as unicorn blood." 

Caradoc nodded and filled again his teacup, before mechanically breaking a biscuit into tiny crumbs. "My last idea would be to ask Nicolas Flamel. Maybe if we could work on a variation of the Elixir of Life… Alchemy sometimes may succeed where Potions are useless." 

"Don't you know the last news? Nicolas and Perenelle died two weeks ago." 

"And some people wonder why I'm always working on my own!" groaned Severus. "Each time I wish for help, it's always denied to me!" 

Caradoc didn't say that _he_ at least had been there for him, since he knew he wouldn't have if Hermione hadn't asked him beforehand. 

"Nicolas didn't have much left of his Elixir. Albus told me, after the thing with the Stone, that he had just enough to set his affairs in order before dying." 

"He waited this long. Couldn't he wait one month more?" 

"Ah well, it takes some time to set in order one's affairs after seven hundreds-odd years," replied Caradoc philosophically. "But we can ask Albus. After all, they worked together on alchemy." 

"It would be a good idea if Albus hadn't left Hogwarts at the same time as I did, for nobody knows where. Last time I heard from Minerva, she had no idea as his whereabouts." 

Caradoc eyed him suspiciously. "Are you sure there are no second effects to your draught? If drinking unicorn blood condemns one to a cursed life, it seems the Nosferatu Draught condemned you to an unlucky one." 

"It is not the time for stupid jokes, Caradoc. While we are idling here, Hermione is waiting for her freedom." 

Caradoc grimaced and put his teacup away to open Voldemort's book of spells that they had already perused more than once, but kept coming back to. Then he hesitated a brief moment. "What if we were forgetting other leads? Maybe we could study other creatures' way of living." 

"Such as?" 

"Well, if we consider phoenixes. They are regularly reborn. Maybe something with phoenix blood…" 

Severus considered the idea for a moment. 

"Give me the book, I'll study it once more. Have a look at the creatures. After all, you're well placed for that, as the creator of the Wolfsbane potion and the wizard currently studying Dementors. Don't forget you can send word to Hagrid if you want answers on beasts that are supposedly forbidden in England." 

Caradoc had a light smile and turned toward a previously neglected part of his library. Soon, both wizards were working, head bent down on their respective heavy volumes. 


	6. Harm's Our Delight And Mischief All Our ...

**Disclaimer**: never did and never will own it. J.K. Rowling does.   
**Spoilers**: Order of the Phoenix   
Thank you to my beta, Nakhash Mekashefah!

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** Living On Borrowed Time - Harm's Our Delight And Mischief All Our Skill **

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Ron Weasley wondered, not for the first time, why he had accepted the position of Minister for Magic. And also, why he had decided to help Hermione and Snape by protecting their secret with his silence. And also, while he was at it, why he had chosen to become Harry's friend their first year at Hogwarts. Ron knew perfectly well that thinking like this wasn't the right way to solve his current problems, but he didn't care. He felt somehow – even though he held no grudges – that he had been the one less doted upon by his parents and family. His mother had already a handful with Fred and George and Ginny's birth – the first girl in the Weasley family for quite a few generations – had guaranteed that Ron would be overlooked for the benefit of his little sister. 

His friendship with Harry had brought him a kind of recognition, though few people understood it. When the famous Harry Potter could have chosen anyone for friends, he had chosen Ron and Hermione. For many people, Ron was just the sidekick, which he had felt to be, as well, for quite a long time, until, with a bit of Hermione's prodding, he had understood he was just as important and that he didn't need Harry to exist. After that revelation, his career had taken flight and now, he was Minister for Magic, which Harry was definitely not. 

Right now, he was tired, and the look he was giving his Time-Turner was, at the very least, baleful. He rubbed his eyes with a sigh and stood up, crossing his office toward the fireplace. As every evening since Percy's meddling, Ron was going back to Hogwarts, where he would meet with Harry and Minerva. She had promised Percy she would give him, on the following day, a complete list of Hermione's contacts for the following day and they were to decide whose names to put on the list as well as what strategy to adopt afterwards. 

When he stepped out of the fireplace, he thought for a brief moment that, being so tired, he had made a mistake in the day or maybe the hour, for he was met by two huge, guileless blue eyes. Then Minerva lightly touched his arm and he snapped out of his trance-like fascination. 

"Am I arriving at a wrong moment?" he inquired. 

"Not at all, Mr Weasley. May I present to you Lawrence Higgs and Isadora Nott?" 

Ron then noticed the presence of the young wizard sitting next to Isadora and a second later, noticed something else. 

"Slytherin students, Professor McGonagall? Did I miss something?" 

"We will wait for Mr Potter's arrival before I explain anything," replied Minerva crisply. "No need to repeat the same thing twice." 

Somehow, Ron was quite irked to feel like a first year again when facing Minerva. He had faced Death Eaters and Dark wizards without any fear but a mere glance from his former professor could make him look at his shoes with a suspicious dedication! It was really irritating. 

He was saved from these unnerving thoughts by the noise of Harry coming through the fireplace, a soot smudge on his nose. Before he could even open his mouth, Minerva had introduced him to Isadora and Lawrence. Harry was visibly disconcerted by the obvious lack of admiration from Isadora; he was more used to the witches' undue adulation wherever he went. 

"Dare we trust Slytherins with this information?" he asked quizzically. 

"These two students are most probably the reason why Percy Weasley didn't go around Hogwarts tearing everything down in hope of finding Miss Granger's hiding place." 

She succinctly explained what happened during Percy's last visit, taking no heed of Harry's comments about Slytherins. 

"Since they guessed so much, I decided it was wiser to unite our efforts. We cannot afford even one step out of line." 

"Very well," said Harry grudgingly. "Do you have the list?" 

"I have the list of Miss Granger's academic contacts as complete as I could muster. I almost wish I could take off some names, but it is well-known Miss Granger studied with them, and Mr Weasley would know we were trying to double-cross him." 

"And Percy is just stubborn enough to find the clues leading to my fall so he can pretend to the post of Minister," added Ron with a grin. "Now, Harry has the list of Hermione's friends. It took me quite a while to stop acting like a jealous fool each time she spoke with a bloke. Harry had no such qualms, so he knows better than I who was on her friends list." 

While listening to Ron, Minerva was duplicating her list and giving it to everybody. Lawrence and Isadora bent their heads over the list and scanned it quickly. Ron was doing the same, frowning at the same time. 

"Who do you think is likely to hold your brother's attention?" asked Minerva. 

"Those living near a laboratory or a library," replied Harry before Ron could. "For that matter, I think we could dispense with the friends list. I don't think Percy ever realised that Hermione is a girl." 

Minerva was surprised at the disdain in his voice, since he had been as blind as Percy until the Yule Ball and with fewer excuses. 

"Why did you mark Arsenius Jigger as improbable?" intervened Ron. "He's Hermione's old Potions master; it would be quite natural for her to go back to him after Snape's demise, since she has no laboratory of her own." 

"This remark, Mr Weasley, is for our benefit and not your brother's. It's not written on the list I'm now making for Percy Weasley. I noted Arsenius Jigger as being an improbable choice for Severus to go to as they had some… personality conflicts, shall we say." 

Lawrence and Isadora looked at each other. 

"That's where I would go if I were Professor Snape," declared Lawrence. "Just because it would be the last place where those knowing me would expect to find me." 

Minerva had a tight smile. 

"Indeed, if Severus managed to find in himself the will to overlook their disagreements, he would have gone there. But, even if he did, I doubt very much that Arsenius would agree to talk to him; most likely he would have threatened him with hexes as soon as he showed up on his threshold." 

Ron nodded as if he knew all of the past history of Severus concerning Arsenius Jigger and pocketed the list. 

"Harry, go visit the first half of it to see if Snape is there and warn him about Percy. I'll take care of the second half." 

Harry didn't retort that the first half of the list contained only names of people who would be useless to Severus and that there was little chance he would find his former Potions master there. Maybe that was entirely the point of Ron's repartition. 

"Miss Nott, Mr Higgs, I'm open to all suggestions you would make," added Ron before leaving. 

The meeting was over, and the two Slytherins discreetly left the office of the Head of Gryffindor who was preparing herself for Percy's visit. They were strangely silent even though they were now sure nobody had spotted them coming out of Minerva's office. 

"They're not approaching the problem correctly," Lawrence suddenly said, after having cast a quick spell to ensure nobody was listening to them. "Not only should they warn him but they should try to delay Mr Pompous." 

Isadora nodded and frowned for quite a moment before directing her luminous smile to Lawrence. 

"Any ideas?" he prompted, now quite used to her expressions. 

"Yes, if you're right." 

Lawrence looked at her, puzzled, waiting for her to explain further. She smiled again. 

"Let's hope he's still as fascinated by me as you said he was." 

He couldn't see how Percy could resist her smile or bear the intensity of her eyes when fully focused on him. 

Percy strode the corridors of Hogwarts with only one goal – or so he tried to convince himself: to get the list of Hermione's contacts from Minerva and then find the clues leading to Ron's downfall for his dissimulation of the young witch's whereabouts. In some ways, he felt a bit guilty, for he would never have cared for Hermione's fate had he not been so intent on bringing Ron down. In normal times, after cooling down, he would have turned to something else, his nature of bending to authority overtaking his ill feelings, but now he had another incentive in the form of huge blue eyes. No matter how hard he had scolded himself, the young Slytherin's eyes and smile haunted him, having made him yearn for his return to Hogwarts, a yearning that had nothing to do with the list of Hermione's contacts. 

Minerva handed him the parchment with an air of disapproval he was used to, though he had never been the recipient of it in his earlier years at Hogwarts. Maybe it was his desire to make this disapprobation vanish that prompted him to blurt, "Who is this Slytherin witch with huge blue eyes?" 

It would have been hard to tell which one of them was the most surprised: Percy for having voiced such a thought or Minerva for realising that Isadora's plan of beguiling Percy had worked so well. For though there were several Slytherins who matched the description, she had no doubts he was talking about Isadora. She was hardly forgettable despite her predilection for discretion. 

"That would be Miss Isadora Nott," she replied carefully. 

"Thank you," said Percy, trying to recover his dignity. "She was most helpful, last I was here," he added in an attempt to explain his sudden question. 

He knew he had already overstayed his welcome, so he curtly took his leave but didn't head outside. Instead, he went straight for the dungeons, where Slytherin students could be the most easily found. In a dark corner, Lawrence smiled. It would be even simpler than originally planned. 

Percy was now in a part of Hogwarts quite unknown to him, empty of students but with walls covered with paintings looking curiously at him. He asked one of them for the way to the dungeons, which he should have remembered, but he was afraid he had taken a wrong turn somewhere or else Hogwarts was playing tricks on him. The painting confirmed that he was indeed going toward the dungeons, provided he took the right turns at the right moment. So, at the next embranchment, Percy turned left, as the painting had told him to do. He came face to face with Isadora and tried to stop before hitting her. Only he didn't manage it. 

Suddenly the floor beneath his feet became slippery and he was unable to stop his momentum, resulting in him crashing into Isadora and both of them falling on the floor in an undignified heap and a distinct thud. Hidden nearby behind a huge and ugly statue, Lawrence pocketed his wand with a satisfied smile and retreated discreetly, with the utmost trust in Isadora's acting skills. 

Though quite happy to have succeeded in finding Isadora, Percy was more than acutely aware that he was crushing her against the hard stones of the floor and he started to get up as quickly as he could. But Isadora, who at first hadn't said anything apart from a small cry of pain when hitting the floor while looking at him with her mouth open in disbelief, all of a sudden began to struggle, trying to push him away, all the while hindering him in his process to stand up. Under other circumstances, Percy would have sworn that she was doing her best to keep him on the ground. He couldn't find any hold without her sweeping it away in her wild thrashing about. 

He tried to reason with her but soon discovered that even his mother would have some difficulties competing with her for vocal power; Isadora's shrieks had, at the very least, to be heard until Sybill Trelawney's tower if not until Hogsmeade. He then endeavoured to block her long enough for him to stand up, pinning her arms to the ground and attempting to find a spot on the floor that wasn't occupied by her legs. He was so occupied – and so intent in concentrating on blocking out her screeches – that he didn't notice the painting behind him looking at him with the most scandalised air. It was in this compromising position that Minerva McGonagall found him. 

Later, Percy would wonder what had happened to his cool sense of logic. Minerva was only rarely seen in the dungeons and even with Severus's disappearance, she still had nothing to do down there. That she was the one to find him was an unlikely occurrence, yet it had occurred. As soon as her stern voice asked dryly what was the meaning of this appalling situation, Percy froze. Isadora pushed him away in a final heave, making him roll on the side, and scrambled away, wrapping her arms around her. 

"Miss Nott, are you all right?" asked Minerva. 

"I… I–" 

Minerva had never seen the usually composed Slytherin so terrified. She was shivering madly and snuggled gratefully against Lawrence's chest when the young wizard stepped up to take her in his arms. 

"I will tell you, Professor!" said the portrait behind Percy, indignant. "He attacked her on the spot! As soon as he saw her, he didn't even say a word but immediately pushed her on the ground! Oh, you should have seen how intent he was! No doubt he came here only to perpetrate this dark purpose; I was told by my friend Everard, who's one of the portraits in the corridor leading to here, that he asked for the way to the dungeons!" 

"No!" protested Percy quite feebly. "I swear it isn't so! I wasn't trying anything with Miss Nott. I was surprised by her sudden appearance in front of me, but then I couldn't… I sort of slipped and crashed into her." 

"You _sort of_ slipped?" repeated Minerva, raising her eyebrows incredulously. 

"I wanted to stand up!" continued Percy desperately. "But she was struggling so madly that I couldn't!" 

"Why didn't you simply roll away?" 

"I–I didn't think of it," admitted Percy, rapidly turning scarlet with shame. 

"So you slipped, happened to fall forward right on Miss Nott and not backward and didn't think of rolling away?" 

Percy didn't answer; he was conscious that any word he added only accused him more. Truly he could not understand anything of what had happened. 

"Why didn't she use her wand?" he asked, hoping to find maybe a slight help there. 

"Miss Nott?" 

"She had forgotten it in the common room," replied Lawrence, tightening his hold on Isadora's shoulders. "I suppose she was coming back to recover it. It's not safe to walk the corridors without one's wand." 

"Miss Nott, I swear–" began Percy, stepping toward her. 

"Leave her alone! You scared her to death!" exclaimed Lawrence violently, pushing Isadora behind him as to protect her and brandishing his wand under Percy's nose. 

"Mr Weasley, please come with me," said Minerva sternly. "I have to report your conduct to the Ministry. Miss Nott, Mr Higgs, wait for me in Dumbledore's office. The password is Mackled Malaclaw." 

There was no surprise shown at the password. Since Albus had left for quite a while now, there was no reason for Minerva to keep his sweets-oriented passwords. At least now, for anyone knowing their lessons of Care of Magical Creatures, it would be maybe easier to guess the password. 

When Minerva entered Albus's office, Lawrence and Isadora were sitting on the armchairs looking as if nothing at all had happened. Her suspicions quickly turned into convictions. 

"Did you plan all this?" she asked. 

"Oh no, Professor!" replied Isadora straight-faced. 

Silence. Minerva simply kept her gaze fixated on them. 

"We didn't plan he would be so cooperative," offered Lawrence. 

"Miss Nott, Mr Higgs, if you truly wish to help Severus, during his absence, it would be best if you refer matters to me as you would do to him. If our efforts were uncoordinated, it would be to our detriment, if not his. Now, I ask again, did you plan all this?" 

"Let's say we helped the circumstances," replied Lawrence, not troubled otherwise. "Weasley was indeed looking for Isadora; it was obvious to me that he was taken with her. We just had to direct his steps to the correct place – rarely used corridors, frequented only by Slytherins as shortcuts. By the way, I think you should award some points to Eric Rackharrow; he did a tremendous job on Transfiguring a pile of books into a wall to block Weasley's way." 

"And the slipping thing?" 

"Oh well, maybe I did cast a little spell. Isadora did not. She only managed to keep him on the ground the time it took for you to arrive, with a discreet variant of the Sonorus charm cast on her voice." 

"And the point of all this is…?" 

"To delay him as long as we could, giving you the advantage." 

Minerva looked at the two Slytherins, as calm as if they were discussing a new haircut in their common room, met the luminous smile of Isadora and the smug grin of Lawrence and sighed inwardly, praying for Severus to come back quickly so he could control them again. Understanding Slytherins was sometimes as hard as understanding Albus's shrewd plans. 


	7. To The Hills And The Vales, To The Rocks...

**Disclaimer**: never did and never will own it. J.K. Rowling does.   
**Spoilers**: Order of the Phoenix   
Thank you to my beta, Nakhash Mekashefah!

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** Living On Borrowed Time - To The Hills And The Vales, To The Rocks And The Mountains... **

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Caradoc Dearborn was a wizard who didn't like to change his firm convictions, and lately, there had been too many changes in his life, Severus Snape not being the least of them. Truth be told, Caradoc wasn't really willing to alter his first impression of the sarcastic younger wizard, but honesty compelled him to recognise that, first of all, he was acting like a petulant child, and secondly, he owed it to Severus himself, if only to honour Hermione's wishes. So, to be forgiven for his hidden negative thoughts, he delved into the heavy tomes with more energy than usual. 

Though he was used to silence and solitude, Severus's quiet presence disturbed him. He wished for him to speak, so he could lash out at him and force him into a sulking silence as he had often done when the younger wizard was his student. Somehow, he regretted that Severus was not afraid of him as other people were. His odd eyes – one blue and one orange – accounted for much of this; they were, unfortunately, easily recognisable, especially at the time the Dark Lord had been looking for him. Caradoc didn't want to know how Severus had managed to give his odd eyes to the body he had presented to Voldemort; it was taken care of with hooded eyelids and half-light. Only when he wanted to intimidate his interlocutor would he truly open his eyes and pierce the other with the full intensity of his gaze. 

The problem was that Severus wasn't intimidated at all. He looked briefly at the younger wizard seated across the room, reading an old book and frowning at the same time, his face half-hidden behind the curtain of his hair. He knew too much of the habits of the former Death Eater, maybe because they were quite similar to his own. Maybe they disliked each other because they were too much like a mirror image of the other. When looking at Severus, Caradoc could almost see his younger self. True, he had never joined the Death Eaters, but then, even when he was an active member of the Order, he hadn't taken as many risks as Severus. Now he was retired for more than twenty years, except for the occasional potion for Albus. 

He had never asked his old friend the reason for all the secrecy he had woven around him. Certainly, Albus could have told the Order that Caradoc was alive, and it would have relieved Severus of some of his duties – especially in potions brewing – but Albus had led Caradoc to understand that he had to give Severus the impression he was sorely needed. Caradoc had always thought he heard a hint of a lie in the reasoning, but maybe it was his resentment talking. 

Severus and Caradoc's foray in the lore of magical beasts – especially phoenixes – led them on a hunt for rare ingredients, causing them to scare the whole village near Caradoc's house. Severus had, internally, admired his technique. The villagers still had unpleasant memories of the time when he had brought back the Dementors, even though few of them knew exactly what had happened that day. Seeing Caradoc on the hunt again had sent them into hiding, except for the brave ones who dared to confront him. None of them had stood up to him for long; Caradoc had a way of looking at them as if he was examining their immune system when talking to them, and nobody wanted to become his next subject of experiment. Under the scrutiny of his odd eyes, they usually squirmed and fled before he could tell them they were affected by a mortal disease; Caradoc had the reputation of being able to see tumours just by looking at people – some even said he could _start_ tumours just by looking at people. 

Once the nuisance of passing the village was dealt with, they had been able to Disapparate quietly – Caradoc's house was warded against Apparition, much like Hogwarts – to find ingredients related to phoenixes. Fawkes had disappeared along with Albus, but Severus still had an impressive amount of phoenix ashes, collected at each Burning Day. Part of them was still at Hogwarts, in his laboratory, but it was too dangerous to go there. Fortunately, Severus was not a believer in putting all his eggs in one basket and had stored a huge jar of ashes in his vault at Gringotts. As long as they had the key, the goblins wouldn't ask any questions. 

If only strictly on the research field, Severus was satisfied with his work and Caradoc's. But as for the results, he was becoming more and more restless. They had attempted several experiments already, creating potions combining phoenix ashes, unicorn hair and horn, and even dragon heartstrings, which concentrated the strength of the dragon. The best result they had had was one more week than Voldemort's curse should have allowed. He had the feeling they were looking for something that didn't and couldn't exist, but he refused to admit it, because if he did, it would be condemning Hermione. 

They were reduced to looking at basilisks, salamanders and even, despite Severus's misgivings, werewolves, for which Caradoc had extensive documentation. Severus was reading about the longevity of the basilisk – hoping maybe he could find something in this that he could make the most of – when the wards of Caradoc's house were activated. They both looked up and exchanged a quick glance. 

"Are you expecting someone?" inquired Caradoc. 

"I told no one I would come here, and those who could want to find me know all too well the… misunderstandings between us." 

Caradoc stood up and went to the door, Severus close behind him. He opened the door just before the newcomer could knock on it. Severus's eyebrows rose slightly. 

"Weasley, what are you doing here?" 

"Professor!" gasped Ron. "You shouldn't come to the door like that!" 

"Severus, it's _Minister_ Weasley, now! Come in, Minister." 

"Thank you, sir." 

They sat in the library, each with a cup of hot tea and some scones. 

"Did you say Minister Weasley, Arsenius?" repeated Severus, taking care to use his borrowed name. "What happened?" 

"Fudge was discovered to be a sympathiser of the Death Eaters and was deposed. I was named in his place. I still don't really understand how. But it's not important now. It's about you. People are… well, _some_ people don't really believe in you're dead and they're wondering where Hermione is." 

Severus opened his mouth but before he could say anything, Ron began telling them the whole story about Percy, Lawrence and Isadora that Minerva had told him by owl. 

At the end of the story, Severus was left half-wondering why he had never known he had such friends – though he would have been hard-pressed to recognise, or even consider, _students_ or any member of the Golden Trio as friends. Ron and Caradoc were looking at him as if expecting him to say something. 

"I would be careful with Miss Nott if I were you, Mr Weasley," Severus said finally. 

Ron looked hurt. 

"I wouldn't hurt her, Professor Snape!" 

"I mean that you would be better to use caution where she's concerned. Isadora Nott is a ruthless young woman." 

The young man standing in front of him looked thoughtful. 

"Yes, I guess she is lethal. Percy's nothing if not a no-nonsense head, and for him to be easily convinced by Miss Nott, she has to be something special." 

"Miss Nott is like a magnificent blade: she brings power to whomever knows how to wield her, but she's still sharply double-edged." 

Ron nodded. 

"I understand. I'll warn Harry about her, also." 

"I'm glad to hear that you stepped out of Potter's shadow in the end, Weasley. It's done wonders for your brain cells," commented Severus dryly. "Now, tell me once again how it is that people are suspicious about my death." 

"Well, blame Malfoy. His cryptic remarks about your 'death' at his trial cast some doubts on our story. But then everybody forgot, what with the information about Fudge and–" 

He stopped suddenly, his mouth still open. 

"What is it, Weasley? And stop gaping like a fish, you'll end up with the same intelligence." 

"The Knights of Walpurgis. Lucius told us about them but then, in the chaos, we forgot! _I_ forgot about them! And now, it's too late; Malfoy's brains have probably been reduced to a puddle of liquefied grey cells." 

"How entirely distasteful. Why didn't you change that?" 

"I would rather feed them to Aragog!" replied Ron. "But then, I haven't had the time to change many things yet. No matter how much I despise the punishment, I can't change it yet; it would cause an uproar in the Wizarding world." 

Severus knew about Hagrid and his Acromantula friends in the Forbidden Forest – since Hermione had asked the half-giant for fresh Acromantula poison – and grinned slightly. 

"I thought you were afraid of Acromantulas." 

"True. But then, I don't like Malfoy, and at least he would have provided some food to Morag and the little ones. That would have been more useful." 

Ron stood up. 

"Anyway, Professor Snape, please don't forget to remain hidden. You should know that, as a spy," he added reproachfully. "Percy's not far behind me." 

Caradoc and Severus walked Ron to the door, and just before closing it behind the young Minister, Severus said: 

"One last thing, Weasley. For the Knights of Walpurgis… you should ask Miss Nott and Mr Higgs." 

As Caradoc closed the door, Ron was still gaping in surprise, inwardly cursing himself for having forgotten that Severus probably knew as much as Lucius Malfoy ever had on the subject of the Knights of Walpurgis. 

Caradoc threw a curious glance toward Severus who groaned. 

"Don't ask. He is… _was_ one of Potter's sidekicks." 

"And yet you spoke with him almost civilly." 

"I was civil to Fudge despite his ineptness. I can't do less for Weasley." 

Caradoc didn't insist and they both returned to their books. 

"What about basilisk blood?" asked Caradoc casually as soon as they were back in the library. 

"And where do you intend to find it? The basilisks are supposed to be extinct, and the only one I know of has been dead for several years now. I doubt there is anything to recover from its cadaver, providing that Albus didn't do anything drastic with it." 

"True, true. But werewolves–" 

Severus sighed. 

"Caradoc, if I am to drink anything every full moon, I'd rather it be something less foul than the Wolfsbane Potion. Though Lupin was probably the best in the lot, I'm still not too keen on being that much like him." 

"Prejudices always take a long time to die…" 

"You can talk, you have quite a few of them," replied Severus tartly. "In short, I don't want to have anything to do with werewolves unless there isn't any other option." 

"Point taken." 

Severus knew that Caradoc was probably vexed by his slighting the werewolves; the old Potions master thought them to be fascinating, but Severus doubted that he had ever nearly been ripped to shreds by one of them while young. It was the kind of event that marked one for life. 

They quickly resumed their quiet life and would soon have forgotten about Ron's warnings if Severus, quite irked at having forgotten everything about the outside world so intent was he to find Hermione's cure, hadn't begun to read the newspapers every morning. Even the _Daily Prophet_ was better than nothing for one who knew how to read between the lines. He thought for a moment about subscribing to the _Quibbler_, but decided that he had no use for Crumple-Horned Snorkacks and the likes. 

Splashed across the front page for the first week after Ron's visit was the story of Percy Weasley and his trial in front of the Wizengamot. He had been condemned to Azkaban for two weeks, for assaulting a 'minor' – obviously, the journalists didn't know what they were speaking about, since Isadora wasn't a minor anymore. Strangely, there weren't any pictures of Isadora, though the journalist made a reference to her 'uncanny beauty'. Severus knew too much about the young witch, understanding her reasons for avoiding cameras. 

Even the most skilled wizard had trouble hiding their true nature from moving pictures. If Voldemort had reasoned a bit more like a wizard, he would have known this and used it to his advantage. It was the Knights of Walpurgis's motto, or almost; a reminder of why the Muggle-born wizards – and even the half-blood wizards – were not as good as the pure-blood ones. The problem was that they were too set in their old ways and refused any progress that could come from the Muggle world. 

As Severus read his newspaper with as much concentration as his research books, he didn't miss the snippet fifteen days later saying that 'Percy Ignatius Weasley left Azkaban today, free to assault innocent young witches again!' Whoever that journalist was, he certainly had never met Isadora. All in all, Severus would rather pity Percy than the young Slytherin witch, as Isadora was far more dangerous than Percy would ever be. But, as the circumstances were, he wouldn't say anything against Isadora, since she had done it all in order to help him – or so he hoped. 

But anyway, both Caradoc and Severus were on their guard when Percy came knocking at their door. 

Caradoc had never claimed to be a nice man and being in front of Percy Weasley didn't bring up any ddeply buried surge of compassion. The young wizard was haggard, his eyes haunted by unknown horrors, and Caradoc was unable to say whether the feverish glow in his pupils was usual or if it came from his stay in Azkaban. 

"Arsenius Jigger?" he asked politely. 

"Himself," replied Caradoc gruffly. "What are you doing here? I don't like to be disturbed during my research." 

The abrupt answer didn't seem to unsettle Percy. 

"I'm Percy Weasley, mandated by the Ministry to inquire about Severus Snape, Potions master at Hogwarts until very recently. Do you know him?" 

"I had him as apprentice when he was just out of school. After that, our paths went different ways and I can't say I regretted it." 

"Did you receive any letters from him?" 

"Mr Weasley, unless your superior thinks the world of you and forgot to tell you, you should have been told by whoever sent you on this mission that Severus Snape and I were never on the best terms. He was an arrogant brat at the time I had to teach him: devious, cunning and disrespectful. And I treated him accordingly. I doubt very much that he kept a fond memory of his time as my apprentice." 

"From your description, I take it you know he is a Slytherin. Coming here to hide would be the most natural thing to do, since it would be the last place his trackers would look. Would you mind if I search your house?" 

"Yes, in fact, I would mind terribly," replied Caradoc, crossing his arms on his chest forbiddingly. "You would disturb my current research." 

"I have the authorisation from the Ministry, Mr Jigger," said Percy almost regretfully. "Should you interfere, I'm allowed to perform a Body Bind on you during the time it takes me to insure that Severus Snape didn't find shelter here." 

"Then tell me why you are looking for him. I thought he was dead, and I hardly consider that fact being criminal." 

"It is believed that Severus Snape is alive, is the cause of the disappearance of a war hero, and may hold back some information regarding the Death Eaters. The Ministry only wants to ask him some questions." 

"Then do proceed. The chamber on your left should prove interesting for you. It contains Dementors. No doubt they will be a treasured reminder of your time with them." 

Percy's face went several shades paler and Caradoc continued perversely. 

"Naturally, the same could be said of Snape. He doesn't like to be near Dementors, either. Scars from his past, you know. But Crouch probably told you all that when you were his assistant." 

No matter what, Percy was not deterred and looked at the three Dementors through the heavily warded window before checking each room of the house. But there was nothing to betray another's presence. Saluting stiffly, he left the house and Caradoc made a show of resetting, audibly, the wards behind him. 

He hurried to the room where the Dementors were and opened the door hastily. One of the black silhouettes came toward him and slipped outside, all the while pushing back his hood to reveal the sallow face of Severus. Caradoc ushered him wordlessly to the library, calling his house-elf for hot tea, chocolate and scones. 

Though he would deny it until death, Severus was shivering near the hearth, trying to recover from his stay in the Dementors' room. He didn't remember how bad it had been earlier in his life, but he could have sworn that it had been child's play at the time compared to what he had just experienced. Maybe it was because he now had some happy memories, which he hadn't at twenty. Or maybe it was because time had distorted his memory. 

After several pieces of chocolate, the shivering subsided but, to Caradoc's unease, the fever in the dark eyes didn't ebb away. He hadn't been very enthusiastic at the idea of Severus hiding with the Dementors, though he had to admit that it ensured, at least, that Percy wouldn't look too closely, considering his recent history. 

"Are you well, Severus?" he asked, concerned. 

"The Dementors, Caradoc!" 

"Yes, I know, you were with the Dementors," he replied patiently, talking to him as to a young child. "Is their influence still not gone?" 

"No, no, you don't understand! We had the answer right under our noses the whole time!" 

Caradoc stared blankly at the younger wizard, who had stood up and seemed ready to shake him in frustration for his slow understanding. 

"We had?" he said noncommittally. 

"The Dementors!" 

And finally, light dawned and Caradoc could only gape in shock at the sheer madness of the concept. 


	8. And She That Wounds Can Only Cure The Sm...

**Disclaimer**: never did and never will own it. J.K. Rowling does.   
**Spoilers**: Order of the Phoenix   
Thank you to my beta, Nakhash Mekashefah!

* * *

** Living On Borrowed Time - And She That Wounds Can Only Cure The Smart **

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Once back in his office at the Ministry, Ron flopped down gracelessly in his most comfortable armchair, stretching his tired limbs. 

'Next time a Slytherin gives me sound advice, I'll follow it immediately,' he promised himself. 

He looked at the list in front of him; all the names were crossed out except for the last one, next to which was written _improbable_. 

'I can only hope that Percy reacts the same way I did and takes them in order.' 

He was exhausted. Apparating twenty or so times in the same day was not on the recommended things-to-do list, but at least he had the satisfaction of knowing that he's done his duty. Severus Snape had been warned of Percy's imminent arrival and of his obsession. 

Even though he felt sorry for Harry, who would come back empty-handed, Ron congratulated himself on giving him the first half of the list. Knowing what the man had done for Hermione didn't make Severus any easier to bear, even if he had been almost civil – minus the snide comments. Ron flattered himself that the meeting had gone smoothly; with Harry, sparks – and spells – would have been flying. Harry was not the most cool-headed person where Severus Snape was concerned. 

With a flick of his wand, Ron set his list afire and watched it burn, his mind wandering far away. Severus had also given him sound advice and, true to his newly made promise, Ron was ready to follow it. 

'But first, let's have a look at this mysterious Miss Nott.' 

With a sigh, he rose from his armchair and his steps led him toward the archives. 

Percy was calm. His trial was coming up, but after some reflection, he was now able to point out some highly suspicious facts: his own inability to stop when seeing Isadora; Minerva McGonagall in the dungeons, of all places; Isadora, a pure-blood witch, without her wand; he could go on forever. Surely the Wizengamot would see that he had been framed and, let's not forget, it was his word against two Slytherins. His record at the Ministry was spotless – except maybe the slight problem of having supported Cornelius Fudge. All in all, Percy was confident that everything would go without a hitch. 

The theory was good, but the reality was different. As soon as Percy lifted his head to speak, he was frozen into silence by Isadora's eyes. Seeing her looking so innocent, her wide eyes upon him, he began doubting his own sanity. Maybe he really had wanted to assault her, after all; a buried feeling he didn't even know about until facing her. Maybe he truly was a monster who should be sent to Azkaban. 

When the Interrogators asked him what he had to say in his defence, Percy didn't answer. He didn't even hear them. His world was reduced to a slender silhouette standing in the middle of the crowd – how could she be here? – and, losing himself in her eyes, he tried to understand, tried to grasp at the slim shreds of reason that were left to him. He didn't hear his sentence and was only shaken out of his trance when they took him away to Azkaban. 

As if she was feeling his distress, Isadora's eyes never wavered away from Percy. She wanted to know what she felt at the idea that he was condemned because of her – that he would live in a hellish place for the next two weeks. She left the hearing room looking down, skilfully avoiding the people around her trying to console her or just have a glimpse at her for being the woman who had made Percy Weasley lose his head. Some speculated that she felt embarrassed or ashamed or maybe even proud. But they were all wrong. Isadora felt nothing. Not even regret. 

Theodore Nott fidgeted when the Minister for Magic entered his office. He knew the part his sister had played in Percy Weasley's condemnation, and after all, the convict was the Minister's brother. 

"Good afternoon, Minister," he said, mustering a jovial tone. "May I do something for you?" 

Ron eyed the stringy young wizard, trying to find any resemblance between him and the beautiful Isadora. He found none, except maybe in the quickness of his eyes. 

"Yes, Mr Nott. It's about your sister." 

Theodore sighed and rubbed his eyes, the tiredness he felt due to his Time-Turner use suddenly falling on his shoulders. 

"What did she do this time? Unless you mean to speak about her framing your brother?" 

Uninvited, Ron sat in the chair in front of the young wizard. He had a feeling the talk would be a long one. 

"Not really. In fact, in framing my brother, your sister was a great help to me." 

Theodore stopped in mid-motion, quite taken aback. 

"What was her interest in it?" 

"That, I don't know. So, as it's not only stupid but also suicidal to wield a weapon without knowing how, I'm asking you to tell me about your sister." 

"What an accurate way to describe Isadora." He leaned back into his armchair, half-closing his eyes. "To understand Isadora, I guess we'd have to go back to my mother." 

"Julia Rookwood Nott," said Ron, remembering his notes from the archives. 

Julia Rookwood was born at the same time as Harry's parents. She was doted upon by her parents and her adoring elder brother, Augustus. Her father, Algernon Rookwood, though not an active Death Eater, was in sympathy with most of Voldemort's doctrine. He believed firmly in pure-blood supremacy and had sworn that his children would rather die alone than marry a Muggle-born or even a half-blood. 

So it came as an agreeable surprise to him when it was noticed that Julia seemed infatuated with Justinius Nott, a friend of his, considerably older than she, but then she was mesmerised by his vast knowledge. Their wedding, as soon as Julia was out of school, was the talk of pure-blood society for weeks. 

To an outsider's eye, the new couple was happy. Julia seemed genuinely in love with her older husband, who had a tender affection for her. Inside the house, it was a different affair. Julia had followed in her brother's footsteps and was passionate about Voldemort. Somehow she got her husband to join the Death Eaters, since women were discouraged, Bellatrix Lestrange being the exception. She became close friends with Bellatrix and Narcissa and, in the course of things, Justinius became one of Lucius Malfoy's friends. 

Both couples had a child at the same time, and the boys grew up almost as close as cousins. But their characters differed; whereas Draco relied on his father's money and influence to get anything he wanted, Theodore turned out to be a loner, fighting his battles on his own. His mother wanted him to be close to Draco, but he never accepted belonging to his gang. 

Then something changed: Julia gave birth to Isadora and lost all interest in Theodore. Her only care was for her daughter, who grew up as manipulative as her mother. Pushed by both his wife and his daughter – whom he adored – Justinius went deeper and deeper in the Dark Arts, even though Voldemort had disappeared, maybe killed by Harry Potter. He would have done anything for his beautiful young wife and she knew it. 

"Isadora is a follower of Voldemort?" 

"No. I like to think that she didn't understand the meaning of what she was asking from my father. But everything changed when my mother died." 

"You could see the Thestrals in our fifth year," said Ron thoughtfully. "So you were there when she died?" 

"Oh, I was there and so was Isadora. Even my father was there." 

"How did she die?" 

"Stupidly. We had a huge library and the Dark Arts books were on the top shelf. We needed a heavy library step and she was on top of it, leaning precariously to reach a book that was too far out of reach. She fell, hit her head and died in her bed several minutes later at the glorious age of thirty-two." 

"Nothing could be done, I gather?" 

"Maybe, but she decided to wait for us to be around her before releasing her grasp on life. She was too disappointed in Voldemort's disappearance. My father was never the same after her death – and neither was Isadora – but, respecting the memory of his wife, he continued the Death Eater thing. I can't say it was the wisest decision he ever made." 

"But you took the opposite path." 

Theodore chortled. "My mother was proud of my intellect, saying I was cleverer than Draco. That ought to account for it. And then, I was scared to death of Aunt Bellatrix. That's what we were supposed to call her, Isadora and me, though she wasn't our aunt." 

"So Isadora is a manipulative little enchantress." 

"Isadora is an exact replica of my mother," said Theodore angrily. "My mother drove my father to his doom and Isadora is more than probably trying to destroy your brother for the fun of it." 

Ron sighed. "As much as Percy annoys me from time to time, I don't want the Dementors to feed on his soul. I guess I need to have a little talk with Miss Isadora." 

Theodore rubbed his eyes with his fist. "You know, in a way, Isadora and Granger are quite similar. They're both very clever, except that Isadora is more cunning and she doesn't use her intellect for the same causes." 

Ron had a large smile. "Hermione's brains used to scare me so much I felt like an idiot next to her. So I talked about chess and Quidditch, until one day she looked at me as if I was an intriguing potions ingredient, and she told me that no one as good at chess as I was could possibly be as stupid as I acted. At the time, I yelled at her. Afterwards, I realised that her comment was in fact a compliment, and since then, I've tried my best to prove her right. She always liked to be right." 

"I think you succeeded nicely, Minister. She'd be proud of you." 

"I hope so, Mr Nott, I hope so." 

Minerva McGonagall was quite unnerved when Ron asked to see Isadora. 

"Mr Weasley, with all due respect, the last time a Weasley asked to see Isadora he ended up in Azkaban. Maybe you should think twice about your request?" 

"I had a discussion with her brother, and I don't feel particularly attracted to young witches still in school. In fact, for the moment, I don't feel attracted to witches at all; my work is time-consuming enough as it is." 

"I didn't think Percy Weasley was attracted to young witches, either, yet he succumbed to Miss Nott's charms." 

"Percy was framed and besides, Harry here will make sure I don't drown in the pools of her eyes." 

Minerva pursed her lips. "Do as you wish, then. I'll summon her in here." 

"Please, could you include Mr Higgs?" 

Minerva didn't like to be treated in such high-handed manner, even by the Minister for Magic, and she made it known, especially when Ron firmly shooed her out of her office as soon as the two students arrived. 

"Please sit down, Miss Nott, Mr Higgs." 

Ron waited a moment until all eyes were on him; he remained standing near the window, blocking the light; it was a technique he had learnt during his work at the Ministry, it allowed him to keep an upper hand over the people facing him, who couldn't read his expression. 

"Miss Nott, I appreciate your delaying my brother, but please leave him alone from now on? I would be delighted if he could keep what sanity he has left." 

"I'll do my best, Minister," Isadora murmured demurely. 

Ron began to wonder if they hadn't taken hold of a weapon far more powerful than they could ever master. 

"Miss Nott, Mr Higgs, what can you tell us about the Knights of Walpurgis?" 

"Secret society," said Lawrence, sounding bored. "Last known cover was as the Death Eaters." 

"Let me rephrase my question: what can you tell us about the Knight Commander of the Order?" 

Lawrence crossed his arms on his chest, his face closing and his eyes becoming guarded. Isadora sighed and wound a lock of her hair around her forefinger. 

"Who knew enough about Voldemort to choose him as a decoy?" she said slowly. "Who would profit from the confrontation between Voldemort and the boy who lived, two of the most powerful wizards of our time?" 

Seeing only blank stares, she added, quite irritated, "Who always knew what Voldemort was up to?" 

"I did," said Harry. "I could see what was happening around him sometimes." 

"Who hid facts from you as long as it served his own purposes, until you stuck your head in the lion's mouth? Who had a powerful and respected persona in the open, but nobody knew what he was doing the rest of the time? Who had a less than savoury brother?" 

"It's a serious accusation you're making, Miss Nott." 

"Open your eyes! Who could have been Minister for Magic, but preferred to remain where he could influence young minds entrusted to him? Who kept the boy who lived under his thumb for seven years, all the while sending him on suicidal missions without appearing to do so? Professor Snape tried to protect you from both Voldemort and the too great liberty you were purposely given." 

"How do you know all this?" 

"Please!" she replied, sounding disgusted. "Give me a little credit, I'm a Slytherin." 

"Crabbe and Goyle were Slytherins and they were as stupid as they were mean," objected Harry, quite shaken. 

"And they are dead." 

"Do you have any proof?" 

"Of course not! Do you think I'd be sitting here, _alive_, if I had any proof?" 

"Who else knows?" 

"Professor Snape. Some people knew he had defected and felt Voldemort should never have kept him in his ranks for so long. _Somebody_ had to tell him to do so; the same somebody who tested Professor Snape's resolution day after day." 

Ron and Harry were silent, trying to ingest what Isadora had just said. Ron was trying to keep in mind that the young witch was manipulative and that she could be lying about the whole thing. Lawrence didn't look surprised by the revelations, as if he had known all along, but his face was set in a reprobating mask. 

"I have two questions of my own. Where is Granger? And how does Professor Snape fare?" asked Isadora, as if they had just been discussing the weather over tea and biscuits. 

Harry's eyebrows shot to his hairline. "We don't know where Snape is." 

"There's only one person who could have sent you to Lawrence and me for information on the Knights of Walpurgis. And I doubt he told it to you before his supposed death." 

"Well reasoned, Miss Nott," said Ron, pulling himself together. "Professor Snape is doing quite well and trusts you to keep an eye on the Slytherin students. As for Professor Granger, she's here at Hogwarts, which is, after all, the safest place, even before Gringotts." 

"Ron! Are you crazy telling them that?" 

"Of course not, Harry. But, as Professor McGonagall told us, if they are members of Snape's fan club, then they will know it's in their interest to protect Hermione as well as Snape." 

The calculative gleam in Isadora's eyes told him that she, at the very least, had no interest in protecting Hermione, but he was interrupted from further speculations by a tentative knock at the door. Ron opened it and ushered the young wizard into the room. 

"Mr Rackharrow, what news do you have for us?" 

"Um, sir, Minister, I… uh, I was looking for Professor McGonagall. There's something strange going on in the dungeons, sir, that…uh, she should probably see." 

"Then show us, Mr Rackharrow." 

Obviously shaken, Eric led the way to the dungeons and stopped in a deserted corridor. A soft orange glow was surrounding a doorway in the bare wall opposite to them. Slowly, as the glow spread before their eyes, the doorframe disappeared in a fog of light and the ground began to shine. Ron stepped forward and touched the stone. It felt cool and smooth, even as his hand glowed orange. 

"So?" asked Harry. 

"Nothing. It's just light." 

They exchanged a glance, wondering if it could be the place where Hermione was resting. 

"Then we have a problem." 

"And it's spreading." 


	9. Haste, Haste To Town!

**Disclaimer**: never did and never will own it. J.K. Rowling does.   
**Spoilers**: Order of the Phoenix   
Thank you to my beta, Nakhash Mekashefah!

* * *

** Living On Borrowed Time - Haste, Haste To Town! **

* * *

Caradoc began by protesting heavily, but Severus was deaf to any of his pleas. 

"You're not yourself; you're still suffering from shock." 

"I'm not! I've survived six months of them, Caradoc." 

"But–" 

"There are no 'but's, Caradoc," he said savagely. 

Then his voice dropped to a soft, menacing whisper. "You _will_ help me, Caradoc, or else…" 

"My studies on them are not complete, Severus!" 

"I don't care. And neither does Hermione." 

Despite his stalling, Caradoc was only waiting to be convinced, and after Severus threatened to give clothes to his house-elf so he would bring him Caradoc's notes about the Dementors, the old Potions master yielded gracefully. As soon as they were agreed, they began working in frenzy. 

They mixed together phoenix ashes and blood, unicorn hair, dragon heartstring, Dementor blood and added several plants known for their regenerative powers. While Severus tried different dosages, Caradoc was searching for a charm to emulate the life-force stealing ability of the Dementors, Severus having adamantly refused looking for it, referring to it as 'silly wand-waving', scorn dripping from his voice. 

Caradoc secretly thought that Severus didn't want to reflect too much on the idea of becoming a pale copy of a Dementor, no matter the fact he had suggested the solution himself. He made a mental note to link the ability to something else than positive emotions. Even though Severus prided himself on his dislike of others, Caradoc couldn't even envision him stealing others' joy to survive. It would destroy him faster than any curse the Dark Lord could have come up with. 

Caradoc could see, in small details, that Severus was coming close to a result. As for him, the spell was ready but he didn't know what to link it to. He had thought of making Severus an anti-Dementor, by allowing him to get a new life-force from negative emotions, but he wasn't sure of the impact it would have on the younger wizard's metabolism. His researches had not reached that point yet. On the other hand, he didn't want to link him only to humans, as were the Dementors, since Severus was hardly a social person. Contrary to the Dementors, Severus had a spell draining him constantly, so he couldn't last long without any life-force input. He considered asking Severus for his choice of link, but somehow figured that the younger wizard would see the question as a mark of weakness and insecurity. It wouldn't do to have his former pupil think such a thing about him. 

Finally, he made his decision and hoped he would never regret it. He chose to link Severus's new ability to the instinct for survival. Few animals were depressed to the point of not wanting to live anymore – unless they were a pet whose master had just died – and Caradoc trusted Severus's impatience with the whole world would prevent him from staying in the company of despondent people. His only fear was Severus himself, for the link would try to get energy from his own survival instinct, and Caradoc wasn't entirely sure that Severus had any will to live, except to repay his debt to Hermione. 

Finally, Severus put a tiny phial in front of Caradoc and slid in the seat across from him. The older Potions master looked at the thick brownish liquid, wondering once again at the marvels that finely honed skills could produce. It was so small a thing, containing maybe two mouthfuls at most, yet it would save a life on hold – hopefully. 

"Are you ready?" asked Severus, clasping his fingers under his chin. 

Caradoc felt that it was to hide the trembling in his hands. Severus was afraid, for himself or for Hermione, Caradoc couldn't tell, but the realisation that Severus could feel anything akin to fear was earthshaking. Caradoc had rarely felt emotions coming from Severus, unless it was anger or indifference. 

"As ready as can be," he replied, unwilling to show his uncertainty. 

They exchanged a glance and understood each other without a word. They were both terrified. 

Severus shrugged, opened the phial and drank it in one gulp. Caradoc aimed his wand at him – noticing the unease of the younger wizard to be at aim – and chanted his spell. A milky-white glow settled around Severus, who looked slightly offended by the colour. Caradoc laughed nervously. 

"How do you feel?" 

"Good. But I felt good before." 

"No changes, then?" 

"Nothing." 

Caradoc noted this carefully in a notebook whose blue cover designated it as 'Observation Notes for the Life-Force Draught'. 

"You have the counter-spell?" 

"Of course. Don't lecture me on the basics of major magic works. You're the one who made a mistake by not creating, right away, the antidote to your Nosferatu Draught." 

"It was a one-way potion and, if something had turned wrong, I would have been the only one to suffer from it, not that I would have suffered for long." 

"And what if your potion had given You-Know-Who your powers?" 

"Don't be demeaning, Caradoc, I know better than that. Besides, Hermione herself had a look at the potion, and may I remind you that she identified it in front of Albus just by reading the composition and instructions?" 

"This discussion is fruitless and–" 

"My sentiment exactly," muttered Severus. 

Caradoc glared at him, disliking the interruption. 

"You will cast a spell on me – something like the full Body-Bind – and Winky will check the time it takes for it to fade." 

The name of the house-elf had a familiar ring to Severus, as if he had already heard it. 

"Winky?" 

"My house-elf." 

"Yes, yes. The name is... vaguely familiar." 

"Ah. Maybe Hermione told you of her. She was Bartemius Crouch's house-elf but he freed her because she had let his son wander away while under her care, causing some… troubles." 

Severus snorted at Caradoc's delicacy. He now remembered the troubles created by Barty Crouch Jr., troubles that had eventually led to the elder Crouch's demise. He also remembered what Hermione had told him about this particular house-elf, as her failure with SPEW had been a sting to her pride, especially where Winky was concerned. 

"I thought she wouldn't do anything but drink?" 

"That was until Albus had an inspiration. He somehow managed to find out that I was related to the Crouch family – distantly, mind you – and thus, that Winky should serve me. Believe it or not, she trusted him and has served me since then. I wasn't too keen on having a house-elf, but she's proving really useful, if a little bit overbearing, though she's quite distressed by the presence of the Dementors." 

"Very well. Call her and we will begin the experiment. How long do you plan on testing my abilities?" 

"One week at minimum. Let's hope the effects won't take too long to manifest themselves." 

"Let's hope also that there won't be a peak before crashing down suddenly," added Severus wryly. 

"Do you have reason to believe it would do that?" 

"No. The life-force levels should keep rising until stabilising because I can't store anymore, unless there isn't enough of the life-force input around me." 

"There should be," Caradoc assured him with a secret smile. 

He was somewhat taken aback that Severus didn't ask him which input he had chosen. Even though he knew the reason why, it shocked him as a researcher. 

The first test was conclusive in the sense that Severus had lost nothing of his powers with the ingestion of the potion and the spell casting. Then, everyday at the same hour, they would proceed once again to the test, Severus casting '_Petrificus Totalus'_ on Caradoc and Winky wringing her hands beside him, counting the elapsed time before her master would move. It went against all the instincts of the house-elf to let a guest cast spells on her master, but as she had said herself, "Master instructed Winky and Winky is obeying, sir!" 

Caradoc was nothing but thorough, and Severus made a habit of settling in a comfortable armchair with an interesting book while waiting for his old master to move. Winky took to pacing around nervously, muttering under her breath while keeping track of the time. She usually was distressed when it came to lunchtime, because she couldn't prepare the meal while remaining by her master's side, and she simply wouldn't leave Caradoc. 

The worst was when Caradoc remained frozen during both lunch and dinner. At lunch, Winky had proudly produced sandwiches, biscuits and hot tea she had brought in before the test and kept at the right temperature, but at dinner she was distraught. Severus, who could easily do without one or two meals, simply finished off the last biscuits and made no comment. The problem was that when Caradoc came back to his senses, he was famished and Winky left the room squealing "Bad Winky, bad! Winky does not make dinner for Master!" 

"I suggest we stop the tests here and now," said Severus dryly as Caradoc sat heavily in an armchair. 

"Do you think they are conclusive?" 

"In a certain way, yes, but it's more about the fact that we don't know if casting the total Body-Bind every day will have any ill effect on your health, especially considering the rate at which my power is increasing. And on the other hand, Hermione will have our heads if she hears how much we've been distressing Winky." 

Caradoc chuckled weakly at Severus's attempt at humour before gulping down gratefully the hot tea Winky had just brought him while dinner was cooking. 

The following day was spent in cleaning and organising the laboratory, re-shelving the books they used for their research and carefully hiding their notes. Caradoc had been adamant about going back to Hogwarts with Severus, if only to finally break out of his hiding. 

"Albus cannot ask me to keep under this pretence for much longer," he declared to Severus. "You-Know-Who is dead and I'm at risk no longer." 

"Especially since Albus isn't at Hogwarts to reprimand you for coming out of hiding without his permission," muttered Severus. "The Dark Lord wasn't the only danger to you, Caradoc. The Death Eaters were also, and probably some of the Knights of Walpurgis." 

Caradoc glanced at Severus. 

"Sometime, you will have to tell me about that secret society." 

"Better for us to wait for Hermione to wake up. She'll probably have questions of her own and I hate repeating myself." 

Somehow, Severus didn't know exactly when he had started thinking about her as 'Hermione' rather than 'Miss Granger' and even talk about her using her first name, but it now seemed natural to him. After all, they were bound by more than people could ever understand; she had let him use her magic force and nothing could be more intimate than that – even though she probably didn't know all the implications of her selfless gesture, since she was Muggle-born. 

As if he knew what was passing through his head, Caradoc glanced at him. 

"Do you intend to tell her?" 

"Tell her what?" snapped Severus. 

"About the bond she created between you and her." 

"Don't be stupid. All she wanted was for me to live a life without owing her anything. What would I be if I held her to a sacrifice she cannot fully comprehend?" 

"She knew what she was doing!" 

"She knew not half of it!" yelled Severus. 

And he left in a flourish of black robes. 

They left Caradoc's house after reassuring Winky that her master wasn't abandoning her and that he would be returning – without his guest. The house-elf was obviously quite terrified to remain alone with the Dementors, but Caradoc told her he trusted her to be the perfect housekeeper during his absence. She puffed her chest in pride and nodded eagerly. 

The two wizards travelled without excessive precautions, though they made sure not to use anything that could be spotted by the Ministry. They remembered the adage saying that it's best to hide where everybody can see it and went their way by daylight, stopping only before arriving at Hogwarts; they knew only too well that the school would be watched. They stopped even before Hogsmeade, since Severus would have been recognised there. 

Patiently, they waited for the middle of the night, even though Argus Filch would not be happy to have to open the gates at that hour. Then, calmly, they made their way to Hogwarts. They both stopped dead, even before seeing the gates. The whole castle was enclosed in an orange glow shining like the sun on a summer day and it was pulsing like a heart. 

"What happened here?" asked Caradoc, half frightened. 

It was a purely rhetorical question and he didn't expect Severus to respond. 

"I'm a fool, that's what happened," replied the younger wizard darkly. "I've read the specificities of the spell enough times to know what to expect." 

"You mean you're responsible for that? Are you crazy? It almost screams 'Hit here, I'm the perfect target!' The Muggles will wonder about it!" 

"The Muggles don't see it; the wards hide it from them. As for my being responsible… in a way. What you see here is Hermione's magic force leaking all over the castle." 

Caradoc was stunned for a moment, then nodded in comprehension. 

"Yes, yes, of course. But why didn't they do anything about it inside?" 

"That is a good question. I hope that Hermione's magic force didn't affect them." 

They exchanged a quick glance and, without a word, hurried toward the castle. 


	10. Banish Sorrow, Banish Care

**Disclaimer**: never did and never will own it. J.K. Rowling does.  
**Spoilers**: Order of the Phoenix  
Thank you to my beta, Nakhash Mekashefah!

* * *

** Living On Borrowed Time - Banish Sorrow, Banish Care, Grief Should Ne'er Approach The Fair **

* * *

In the Slytherin common room, late in the night, Lawrence Higgs was frowning at the fire dancing in front of him. Alone in the quiet room, he was trying to figure out the puzzle that was Isadora Nott. At first, he had been pleased to see her join – though not officially – his little group, but since then, she had had time to surprise him. Her acting talents were normal for a Slytherin witch – especially considering one whose father was a Death Eater. That she helped him for Snape's sake was not out of the ordinary. What _was_ frightening was the way she kept after Percy Weasley. She had framed him and it should have stopped there. But it hadn't.

She had gone to his trial, destabilising him even more. Though nobody knew it, she had been there when he had come out of Azkaban, and, somehow, she had managed to place herself in his path when he had come back from Arsenius Jigger's house. And now, she was following every move of Ronald Weasley, looking at him like a hawk looked at a mouse. In Lawrence's opinion, it was an unhealthy obsession, especially considering that the Minister and his friend Potter were at Hogwarts every day because of the surprising orange glow.

This led him to think about the Minister. His conversations with Ronald Weasley had gone quite smoothly, compared to those with Harry Potter. Obviously, the Boy Who Lived hated Slytherins in general, and everything in particular, that reminded him, even from afar, of Draco Malfoy. Lawrence had not appreciated the not-so-veiled remark that his band was quite similar to Malfoy's. He prided himself on having friends, not gorillas, and, anyway, he resented Draco Malfoy. The little ferret had been the reason for Lawrence's brother being kicked off the Quidditch team despite his past successes. Family bonds were even stronger than loyalty to Slytherins and he would not forgive Malfoy any time soon for the slight to Terence.

Thinking about it, he knew of some Slytherins for whom family bonds were nothing. There had been that man Black, who was, disgustingly enough, a Gryffindor in a Slytherin family. And there was Theodore Nott, who had rebelled against the idea of becoming a Death Eater or one of You-Know-Who's followers, despite the example of his family. Then, who knew what Isadora thought of all this? She was willing to help Snape, and the Potions professor, though having been a Death Eater, was not known _now_ to hold them dear.

He sighed. Once again, his thoughts had led him to Isadora. She baffled him, and Lawrence didn't like to be baffled.

His bafflement reached new heights when the door of the common room was vigorously kicked open. Nobody dared to enter, in such a disrespectful manner, the Serpent's Den. In a heartbeat, he was standing, wand at the ready.

"Ah, Mr Higgs," said a silky voice, its calm belying the way its owner had opened the door, "just the person I wanted to see."

"Professor Snape?" said Lawrence incredulously, slowly lowering his wand.

"Don't standing here gaping, Mr Higgs! I need a quick account of what's happened while I was away."

"Er…"

Lawrence sat down rather brusquely when he saw another man behind his Potions professor, a man with odd eyes. The young Slytherin had heard more than one tale about Death Eaters and their victims, even though some people were rather closed-mouthed on the subject, and he knew about the wizard with the orange eye.

"He's supposed to be dead," he murmured, bewildered.

"So am I," replied Severus sharply. "What happened? When did the glow begin to spread?"

"I don't know exactly, two weeks maybe?"

"And you didn't do anything about it?"

"The Minister, Harry Potter and Professor McGonagall are trying everything they can!" he defended.

"Where did they put her?"

"In her old quarters, but I was led to understand that the Headmaster added some spells of his own to keep her place undisturbed."

Severus grunted.

"I can imagine. Come, Caradoc. Mr Higgs, please keep an eye on Miss Nott for me."

With those words, the door was closed and the common room was once again quiet, the fire dancing gaily in the fireplace. But the turmoil within the young man sitting beside it had increased tenfold.

The air in the Great Hall was still a definite orange colour when breakfast started, but it wasn't what made Isadora Nott frown. Even though some students were quite upset by the strange phenomenon, Isadora couldn't care less, especially once she had known it came from what was most probably Hermione Granger's resting place.

What made her frown, though, was seeing the Minister at the staff table. He wasn't alone and the wiry wizard accompanying him wasn't Harry Potter. In fact, he was someone she knew only too well, the only person she really cared for. Theodore Nott was speaking with the Minister and even laughing at some of his remarks.

Once breakfast was well on its way, Isadora felt a heavy gaze on her. She looked up to meet Minister Weasley's eyes and the message they held was clear to her: _Harm my brother in any way and yours will pay._ Somehow he had figured out that she would never do anything to endanger Theodore. Regretfully, she renounced her plan to be along Percy Weasley's way this very afternoon, since he had announced to Professor McGonagall that he would come investigate the suspicious orange glow. But Isadora was not someone who was easily deterred and she formed, on the spot, another plan: targeting Ron Weasley instead of his brother.

She made herself look very dedicated to her breakfast, though she would have been quite unable to say what it consisted of, and only looked up when she felt someone sit next to her. Only Lawrence had the nerve to sit by her, and she turned her head toward him to greet him. She closed her mouth without having said a word.

"You look terrible," she finally said.

"Thanks," he grumbled. "Good morning to you, too, Isadora."

Obviously, Lawrence's mind wasn't on what he was doing, since he kept putting marmalade in his cup rather than sugar, and then absent-mindedly poured orange juice in his porridge. Isadora winced when he took his first mouthful. She decided to put the kippers and sausages a bit further away on the table lest he dipped them in his tea.

"Tough night?" she asked, stealing the nearest dish of eggs and bacon from him before he could reach for it.

"You could say that," he replied, frowning at his plate. "I don't know what they did to that porridge, but it's inedible."

"It may be because you put orange juice in it instead of honey," she said helpfully.

"I did? How strange; I don't like orange juice."

Isadora sighed. "Lawrence, what happened?"

Suddenly, the orange light around them disappeared, provoking instant chaos. Young students shrieked, older students jumped to their feet and, interestingly enough, Ron Weasley darted toward the dungeons. Minerva McGonagall glanced wistfully in his direction, but stayed behind and endeavoured to calm the students.

"There, now you know what happened," yawned Lawrence before sprinkling a soft roll with corn flakes.

Severus and Caradoc had spent the whole night hammering at Hermione's door. It was impossible to see the outline of it in the dense orange fog, but Severus had led them to the entry of her quarters without any hesitation, and Caradoc had asked no questions as to how he was able to find it blindly. They were at the thickest of the glow and couldn't even see their hands in front of their faces. He had disarmed the first wards quite easily, but the last one was holding firm against him. Finally, Caradoc pushed him to the side and carefully probed the spell on the door.

"It has Albus's touch," he murmured. "A fine charm, if I may say so. A bit as if it were saying 'Look elsewhere, I'm not here' and, at the same time, a smugness of 'You will never get pass me anyway, I'm too clever by half'."

"How typical."

"It reminds me of something he gloated about… A spell he had devised to hide the Philosopher's Stone, I think… Does that mean something to you?"

"I want to find it but not to use it," groaned Severus. "How did he apply that to Hermione?"

"Well, Mr Weasley would want to find her, but not save her. Or would he?"

"I don't think Weasley cares a bit for Hermione. His only worry is for his advancement."

"But we want to find her _and_ to save her," said Caradoc softly. "So it would seem to be the contrary to the previous spell."

"But that damned door still isn't open."

He leaned his head against the cold stone, almost as if he could hear her behind the wall.

"No, Caradoc," he said quietly. "We don't want to save her; we want to save _me_ and _wake_ her."

Before the old Potions master could answer, a very soft click told them the door was open.

Caradoc remained behind as Severus rushed inside. The younger wizard knelt besides Hermione's bed and reached for her hand, stopping just inches from touching her.

"Hermione," he murmured, "do you hear me? I'm here; I'm back. You'll be able to live again, to breathe again."

Like so many previous days, like Ron before him, he had the impression he saw a brief smile on her lips and heard a wisp of wind breathing his name.

"I wonder if you expected me to come back or not. I hope you didn't think I would abandon you. It would have been beyond my strength," he added in a whisper.

Ignoring Caradoc's presence, he leaned forward and, as he had done when he had left, he softly kissed her brow before standing up and looking around critically. The older wizard made as if he had not noticed anything out of the ordinary, while inwardly he marvelled at this unknown side of Severus.

Obviously, the house-elves had not dared to intrude, and the room was covered with dust. Severus took care of the problem with a quick wave of his wand. For good measure, he also cast a cleaning charm on Hermione, who didn't look very neat after so many days without care. Caradoc thought it prudent not to mention the quantity of foolish wand-waving Severus was practising and ground his teeth almost as loudly as he at Hermione's state.

"They could have taken care of her!" he exclaimed indignantly.

"Albus probably didn't think that he would soon be leaving after sealing her in. For all we know, Poppy tried to bring down the wards to care for her, but couldn't enter. I'm not even sure she knows the location of these quarters," replied Severus absent-mindedly, peering intently at the orange fog.

Then, out of the blue, he added, "We need to find Crookshanks."

Caradoc almost groaned aloud.

"For goodness' sake, Severus, wake her up and have it done!"

"You don't understand, Caradoc. That ugly cat of hers will convince her better than words that she's awake."

"And she will think Albus used Polyjuice to become you because you never were that attentive to her before," grumbled Caradoc.

So they looked for Crookshanks everywhere in Hermione's quarters, since Severus was quite sure that the cat would never have left her alone, no matter Albus's wards. They had searched in every nook and cranny and Crookshanks was not to be found. Tired, they stopped again in front of her bed.

"I guess we will have to proceed without Crookshanks, then," risked Caradoc.

Severus shook his head furiously and strode to the huge armchair beside the bed.

"There you are, you ugly hairy old rug," he said, seizing a big orange cat. "You were there the whole time, weren't you? Typical from you."

He put the purring half-Kneazle on the pillow next to Hermione's head and knelt again. With a tenderness that Caradoc would never have guessed he could have, Severus murmured the counter-spell to the sleeping charm Hermione had cast on herself. Seeing the dark silhouette hovering next to her bed, the older wizard felt like an intruder and he silently stepped back. During the past weeks with Severus, he had discovered a new depth to his former apprentice, but looking at him now made him doubt everything he thought he knew.

"Hermione?" whispered Severus. "Hermione, wake up!"

She still hadn't opened her eyes but she began struggling weakly, grasping blindly for her wand.

"No! He'll die if you do that! Let him live! Leave me alone! He'll die," she continued in a keen little cry. "Don't let him die…"

The orange glow was slowly fading, until only Hermione herself was shimmering. Crookshanks was purring as loudly as he could, butting his head against her cheek while she was trying to find her wand. Severus imprisoned her hands in his and talked to her softly, too low for Caradoc to hear him above Hermione's cries.

It was how Ronald Weasley found them and, unfortunately, it didn't take long for Harry Potter to arrive next, Ron having warned him of the change. There was also a young wizard with them whom Caradoc didn't recognise, and he shrank further in the shadows, reacting by instinct after so many years in hiding.

"He's torturing her!" exclaimed Harry, his wand already drawn.

"Don't be stupid, Harry," snapped Ron, his tiredness getting the better of him. "He wouldn't hurt her."

"I told you he was still with the Knights of Walpurgis, but you didn't want to believe me!"

"Good morning, Professor Snape," said the young wizard.

Severus looked briefly away from the struggling Hermione.

"Nott, come here and help me instead of looking at me like a fish! Weasley, do something! Can't you see she's not waking up properly?"

It took them at least ten minutes to notice that her eyelids had been magically sealed and to find the counter-spell. Severus was furious with Albus and himself; after the pains he had taken to insure she would awaken without panicking, Albus had to ruin it all with a stupid – and useless - spell.

When she opened her eyes at last, her gaze focused at once on Severus and her face twisted with grief.

"Why did you do that? I wanted you to live…" she whispered sadly. "Why didn't you leave me like I asked you to?"

"Oh, he did leave you!" said Harry with a sneer.

But neither Hermione nor Severus paid attention to him.

"Because I would have been living a borrowed life, to quote your own words," he replied softly, his gaze intent on her. "And I don't want that anymore. It's gone on too long."

Her eyes filled with tears.

"I don't want you to die…"

"I won't die, Hermione. I looked for a cure and, with Caradoc's help, I found it. You and I will both live."

"Caradoc?"

"Also known as Arsenius Jigger."

Hermione opened and closed her mouth several times, then took Crookshanks in her arms and burst into tears, burying her face in the welcoming fur. Nobody noticed the two slim Slytherins silently entering the room.


	11. Your Counsel All Is Urged In Vain

**Disclaimer**: never did and never will own it. J.K. Rowling does.  
**Spoilers**: Order of the Phoenix  
Thank you to my beta, Nakhash Mekashefah!

* * *

** Living On Borrowed Time - Your Counsel All Is Urged In Vain, To Earth And Heav'n I Will Complain! **

* * *

At first, nobody dared to move or speak, until a cold voice said, "Crying won't help when Percy Weasley arrives, which should be any minute now."

Harry glared at Isadora, but Hermione looked up and wiped away, quite inefficiently, her tears.

"What is it with Percy?" she asked, trying to sit up. Neither Crookshanks's affectionate encouragements nor the worried looks of her friends could help her, and she fell back on her pillow, keeping her head up being too much of a strain.

"What did you do to her? Why is she so weak?" Harry's angry voice was almost a shout, and his animosity was directed at Severus.

"Her magic force has been leaking all over the castle for almost two weeks, and she just recuperated it fully. It must have been quite a back blow, Potter. What's more, she hasn't moved for a long time; she needs time for her muscles to work again."

"Time is what we sorely lack, Professor," interjected Lawrence.

"What is it with Percy?" repeated Hermione. "What happened while I was asleep?"

It was a four-voices answer – Severus, Ron, Harry and Lawrence – and if she had some difficulties understanding the subtleties, she quickly grasped the main problem.

"Are all Death Eaters arrested?"

"More or less."

Ron looked as if he wanted to add something, but reconsidered after a glance toward Isadora.

"Then Sev– Professor Snape can resurrect."

"So can you."

"Was I truly considered dead?"

"No, only 'missing', with all the heavy meanings Percy could put on the word," answered Ron.

"How do you plan to explain your absence?"

"We were away, trying to save a life. As Professor Snape is healthier than I am, we will say I was the patient. It's close enough to the truth."

"I'd rather say that Weasley, seeing you both alive and hale, will question you on the orange glow, saying how it could have been dangerous, etc.," intervened the lanky wizard who had remained silent until now.

Hermione squinted at him.

"Theodore Nott?" she said wonderingly.

"Himself, Granger. Remain focused on the problem, my turn will come later."

"Say it comes from Hogwarts and let Dumbledore deal with the Ministry afterwards," said Isadora with a touch of scorn.

Harry seemed tempted to approve – the Headmaster had manipulated them enough, wasn't he the Knight Commander of Walpurgis? – but then, the suggestion was coming from Isadora, and Harry distrusted her more than he did Dumbledore.

"It would give us time, but I fear that it would turn against us in the end," objected Hermione.

"And we need to stop fearing Percy," muttered Ron. "Fudge was doing whatever he wanted, after all!"

"Do you really want to be like Fudge, Ron?"

"No, but I don't plan to be bothered by people under my orders, either! Percy's just trying to find problems where there aren't any and, if necessary, create them."

"It you stop him, they'll say you intend to restrict liberties. Let him proceed; he's just discrediting himself."

Their discussion was cut short by the arrival of a breathless Eric Rackharrow.

"The Weasley git is heading right here!" he announced.

Severus had just the time to lift Hermione in his arms and sit her in an armchair, covering her legs with a blanket – and Crookshanks – before Percy entered the room as if he had known all along where to look for it. It was worth thinking over: with no glow to guide him, how had he found the place so quickly? He should only have been told the general direction – the dungeons – but no more!

The young wizard looked around with a satisfied smile.

"Good, you're all here. It will make things so much easier."

It was as if they had all been struck dumb. Hermione's fingers tightened on Crookshanks's fur, and then she said thoughtfully, "Of course, it makes sense, in a strange sort of way. You've always been Dumbledore's man, haven't you?"

Percy beamed at her at the same time Ron protested, "Hermione! You've gone barmy!"

"In my first year, you told me that Dumbledore was a genius. In fifth year, you sent an owl to Ron, giving us clues about what to expect from both the Ministry and Umbridge, a 'truly delightful woman'. Not even you at your most sycophantic could say _that_ about her. Fudge came to Dumbledore's office with a team constituted by _you_, in which, curiously enough, there was Shacklebolt, an Order member. And, more and more curious, you weren't in the office when Dumbledore Stunned everyone before fleeing. Spy on the Minister?"

Percy's smile grew larger.

"At last, someone understands me and my plight!" he said rather theatrically. "Perfect analysis, Miss Granger. I've never left the good side, as they say, and I'm not telling now just because the war is over."

"Well, good guy or not, spy or not," exclaimed Ron, "you're still a pompous git!"

"And Professor Snape is a right bastard, when you think of it," retorted Percy, "but it didn't prevent him from working undercover for more than twenty years. Being a spy and a good guy is no guarantee of a sunny disposition. No offence meant, Professor. Now, where is Dumbledore?"

He looked around again and his smug smile faltered when he saw Isadora watching him with a predatory look in her eyes. Surprisingly enough, Ron turned his head away just at that moment, and Isadora considered it a good omen.

"Nobody knows where Dumbledore is, Weasley," snapped Severus. "Not even Minerva."

"Oh well, the door is open, it should summon him soon," replied Percy, tearing his gaze from Isadora with difficulty. "Maybe a… smaller committee should wait for him?"

"We are all actors in this story, Weasley, except that Minerva is missing. Maybe Mr Rackharrow would be kind enough to fetch her, now that the students have probably dispersed?"

Eric threw a wounded glance toward Severus, but obeyed. Percy sat, neatly arranging his robes around him.

"Why did you track Snape like a criminal and bother us?" asked Harry with hostility.

"I've made enough of a nuisance of myself in previous years that it wouldn't shock anybody. Furthermore, nobody would care about coming after you if I were already on the job: they knew me well enough to know I'd go further than necessary. It ensured a relative security."

"You were a nightmare!"

"But I was a nightmare who wouldn't have revealed anything if I'd found a clue," he replied softly.

"So you're not half the idiot we thought you were," murmured Isadora dreamily. "What wonderful news…"

Theodore frowned. Percy started and a gleam of panic entered his eyes when he noticed that Isadora's tone was contradicted by her speculative smile.

"How are you feeling, Hermione?" he asked nervously.

"Drained," she admitted, her voice tired. "It's far worse than with the Time-Turner."

"Should we call for Madam Pomfrey?"

"It's quite normal, Weasley," sighed Severus. "Miss Granger designed her sleeping spell to be open for tapping into her magic force. When I was doing so, due to the link she created between us, it was weakening her more than if she had been using it herself, since my organism was a stranger. Even though, as time passed, we became more attuned to each other until there was no difference between us, she was tiring more than usually, since her life force was sustaining the two of us. Even if her organism was asleep, I was in full activity, trying to find a cure that would not prove deadly to either of us."

"Especially you, you egoistical bastard," Harry accused him.

"Miss Granger put her life in jeopardy so I would live on, Potter. Considering that, it was only common courtesy to respect her wishes."

Albus, Minerva and Eric entered the room together. Severus wondered a brief moment if he hadn't seen disappointment in Albus's eyes upon seeing Hermione awake. The Headmaster took matters into his hands briskly.

"Everybody's here? Good."

A wave of his wand and the door closed. Nobody doubted for a moment that it was magically sealed against intruders – and maybe against the people who were inside already, so they could not get out.

"You should have waited for me, Severus. It would have avoided you pounding needlessly on Hermione's door," Albus said, glaring at Severus.

"We couldn't wait," replied the younger wizard calmly, a light emphasis on the 'we'.

"She had waited already several weeks, she could have waited a bit longer."

"No, I couldn't have," disagreed Hermione, "not when I knew that Sev– Professor Snape was just behind the door. You all seem to think that I didn't know anything of what was happening around me. I _could_ hear and feel any presence next to me and the isolation was driving me crazy. Without Crookshanks, I _would_ have become crazy. I don't know how he managed to pass your wards, Headmaster, nor how he found me, but his presence was indeed welcome."

"Never underestimate the loyalty of a Kneazle," murmured Caradoc softly, placing his hand on Hermione's shoulder.

Albus turned toward him.

"And you! Are you out of your mind? After all the trouble we went through to keep you unharmed, you come here of all places!"

"Nobody wants me dead anymore, Albus. I therefore have no reason to remain in hiding. That, and I wanted to share Severus's success," he added thoughtfully. "It's a real breakthrough, Albus! Well, of course, the cases for the application are nonexistent and we only had one test subject, which isn't enough, but–"

"Arsenius, maybe we could talk of all this later? And maybe we could send the students back to their House?"

Lawrence crossed his arms mulishly on his chest and stared right back at the Headmaster. Isadora seemed totally unconcerned by the pointed glare, and Eric was leaning forward, tying his shoelaces – which had been perfectly tied until now.

"Let them be, Dumbledore," sighed Minerva. "They have done their share of the work, it is only fair they see the outcome."

He ignored her.

"Severus and Hermione, I expect you in my office before dinner," he said. "Arsenius, we have so much to tell each other that I fear the whole evening won't be long enough. Percy, thank you for your help, I'll see you later. Mr Potter, Mr Weasley, you may return to your duties since everything's back to normal here. Slytherins, shouldn't you be in class right now?"

Almost automatically, Percy rose, when Ron's voice stopped him.

"No, Headmaster. You forgot a detail: I'm not Fudge. Even though you were Headmaster at Hogwarts while I was a student here, it doesn't give you the right to order me around like a puppet."

"And my name is _not_ Arsenius," added Caradoc.

"So, Harry and I won't go back to the Ministry like good children, because we never were, as you well know. And nobody will answer _your_ questions in your office, when nobody else can hear them. But _you_ will answer _our_ questions this evening, in this very room if necessary, since I believe Professor Snape warded it quite heavily."

The Headmaster looked quite stunned by this unexpected resistance.

"I am by no means compelled to answer your questions, Minister," he replied, laying a heavy sarcasm on the last word.

"I believe you'll find you're mistaken," said Ron airily. "You've overlooked one of us in your 'Slytherin' group, Headmaster. May I present Theodore Nott, from the Wizengamot? Theo, I trust you have with you what I requested?"

"Certainly, Minister. An Order of Appearance from all parties concerned by the affair before you, Auror Potter and myself, as well as several phials of Veritaserum, should they be needed."

"Perfect, Theo. Oh, please break the silent oath spell the Headmaster put on this room."

"With pleasure, Minister, except that it's embedded with the wards and it will take me some time to do so."

"Until then. Dumbledore, we'll be thrilled to have you return here this evening. You may go. Professor McGonagall, as usual, it was a pleasure to work with you. Percy, your presence is also requested tonight. Professor Snape, Master Dearborn, will you do us the honour of returning tonight to explain things? Isadora, Lawrence and Eric, until this evening, then?"

Everybody knew how to recognise a dismissal when they heard one, and they prepared to leave with various feelings.

Ron and Harry didn't move from their seats, whereas Percy almost bolted for the door. But Severus had beaten him there and, as the young wizard was passing in front of him, Severus held out his hand and caught him by the elbow.

"Be careful where you tread, Weasley," he said softly. "I don't buy this 'I was a good guy all along' business."

"You don't trust Dumbledore's word, Professor Snape?" replied the young man loftily.

"Contrary to popular belief, the Headmaster isn't omniscient and, after all, he vouched for me. I should know better than anybody else what his word is worth. Your story is a little bit too convenient and, of course, nobody knew of your role until the end."

"And too many people knew of yours. You should know yourself that nothing is what it seems, Professor."

"Maybe. I admit you chose a good role. You seem so much like the sacrificing hero: a Gryffindor, ready to put his whole family in danger for the sake of glory! Oh sorry, should I have said… for the sake of good?"

"I'll probably be more easily believed than you as to our respective roles. You were always considered a spiteful man and nothing is going to change that. The wizarding community may act as if they accept you being a spy for the Light, but deep down, they will never truly believe it."

"I may have a better advocate than you."

"Who? Hermione? Really, Professor. Did you forget that she was campaigning for house-elves' rights? How serious can she be taken if she defends you?"

"Perhaps more than you making believe that you were feigning your enthusiasm about cauldron thickness. And frankly, that Hermione Granger, best friend of Harry Potter, dared to sacrifice her life and career for me, may tell more than you think."

"But it may still not be enough, Professor. Shall we continue this conversation this evening?"

"By all means, Weasley. Your role in this story intrigues me quite a lot."

Percy shrugged and left, followed by two pairs of eyes: one black, one blue. After a quick glance toward her Head of House, Isadora fell in behind Percy, while Severus remained where he was. After all, he was a spy, and the conversation about to happen in Hermione's rooms would certainly be instructive.


	12. What Stubborn Heart Unmov'd Could See

**Disclaimer**: never did and never will own it. J.K. Rowling does.  
**Spoilers**: Order of the Phoenix  
Thank you to my beta, Nakhash Mekashefah!

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** Living On Borrowed Time - What Stubborn Heart Unmov'd Could See Such Distress, Such Piety? **

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**Warning! Contains HPB spoilers and, among them, the true identity of the Half-Blood Prince. Read at your own perils and don't come to complain afterwards. You were warned beforehand.**

"How could you do it, Hermione?" asked Harry, half-angry, half-sad.

"How could I do what?" she replied tiredly, laying her head back.

"Sacrifice yourself for Snape!"

"And what else could I do?" she said simply. "Was I to let him die without doing anything?"

"He was ready to do so," noted Ron.

She straightened in her armchair and looked lengthily at them.

"I can't believe it. You don't realise what a man we would lose in Severus Snape!"

Harry scoffed.

"Be serious, Hermione! A man prejudiced against Houses, whose better mood is when he's not snapping at you, and who enjoys making people miserable?"

"And what do you know about him?" she exclaimed, red with anger. "Did you work with him day and night until exhausted, and see him collapse before your eyes? Did you see him mad with fury because he couldn't do more for the cause? No! The only thing you know about him is his hatred of you, and your father and his friends."

"Isn't that enough? Didn't he show us more than once that he was unable to see beyond that?"

"Because you can? You had five minutes of compassion for him in fifth-year, and soon after, it was drowned in hatred! Your father and Sirius were bullies, and Remus conveniently turned a blind eye. Severus Snape could've turned out much worse than he did."

Ron put a restraining hand on Harry's arm and asked calmly, "What did you mean, Hermione?"

"That he could have turned out worse? Frankly, Ron–"

"No, not this one. The one about the man we would lose in him."

She took a deep breath.

"He's a Potions master. A _good_ one, and it's not as easy as it seems. There aren't many Potions masters in the country, except Arsenius Jigger and Damocles Belby. His loss would've been dreadful. The man can do wonders!"

"But you're a Potions mistress, Hermione."

She gave a mirthless laugh. "And little do you know how hard it was for me to achieve that title. It was worse than my third-year. I had to create an illegal Time-Turner to be able to complete it in time, without the whole thing being a complete failure, and afterwards I slept three days without interruption. I was out of my mind for more than two weeks once it was over. But you didn't see any of that. Only Professor Snape – and Arsenius Jigger – knows it. What I did with difficulty, he mastered easily. The man has flair for the field, which you should know, Harry, since you had his book."

"But you're better at it than any of us, Hermione!"

"I have no flair," she said with a grimace. "I only know what's printed in a book. How do I know anything in Potions? Because I take care to buy all books published on the subject, and I spend all my nights reading them until I know them by heart."

"Yet he wants to teach DADA," remarked Harry slyly.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "And when did he get the job? When, conveniently, _you_ would've been kicked out of Potions class, while it was required if you were going to become an Auror. So very smooth. For your two last years, you had a competent Potions teacher _and_ a competent DADA teacher. You never realised the fact, I guess?"

"I did wonder why Snape was getting his dream job that particular year," admitted Ron.

"All right, Hermione, I understand you admire the man, but did it justify the fact that you were ready to lose everything to save him?"

"Yes. Understand me, Harry: it wasn't as if he'd asked me. In fact, he would have sent me away if I'd told him of my plans. It was seeing him so resigned, so ready to die, that broke my heart. And if anyone could find a cure to his potion, it was he. As I've already said, I have, unfortunately, no flair…"

"So you were expecting him to try to save you!" exclaimed Harry. "How could you trust him so completely, even when you were saying in your letter not to?"

"No, I wasn't. How to explain it to you? I didn't care. I had done my duty… No, it wasn't a duty. I chose to act as I did, fully conscious of what I was doing, and my only motivation was that I wanted him to be finally free. It was my way to thank him for all he'd done for us, but I wasn't forced to do so. I _wanted_ to, even more because he didn't ask. In all honesty, Harry, had he left me to my fate, I would not have begrudged him. I _told_ him to let me be."

She sighed.

"I wish you'd stop being at each other's throats."

"If only he'd stop baiting me," grumbled Harry.

"Because you don't? You attack him before you think, and, naturally, he takes a fierce pleasure in remonstrating with you for behaving like a child. He proclaims Gryffindors are thoughtless, and you only fuel his arguments."

Harry looked slightly uncomfortable, while Ron inclined his head toward Hermione in acknowledgement.

"So what didn't you tell me during your summary of what happened while I was unconscious?" she asked matter-of-factly.

Ron laughed.

"We should've known we couldn't hide anything from you. It's about the Knights of Walpurgis."

"The what?"

Harry explained, in great length, all it was about and spoke also of Isadora's comments. Hermione turned thoughtful.

"And you believe her?"

Prudently, Ron let Harry answer. The young Auror had taken the matter to heart and was loath to let anyone else weigh in on the subject.

"I don't know," he admitted, his green eyes strangely shadowed. "Her arguments are valid, but I don't trust her. I'm not that sure that I trust Dumbledore either, but… How to say? Some days, I think that she's right, that it's the only answer but the following day, I think it's stupid. What could be Dumbledore's reasons to act like that? Why would he want to control Voldemort?"

"To look powerful," replied Hermione. "He was a war hero, thanks to Voldemort. As soon as his return was known, everybody turned to Dumbledore."

"True, but the dead people, Hermione! Would he sacrifice so many people to ambition?"

"Some would, and you know it. But Dumbledore, I don't know."

"And, well, Isadora Nott is Slytherin. You'll say it's my grudge toward her House, but Slytherins aren't known for being truthful. Yet, they've been strangely useful, without asking for anything. Why would they do that?"

"No idea. I'll have to think about it, but not today. I'm really tired."

Ron stood up, feeling concerned.

"Of course, Hermione. Are you sure you're all right?"

"I will be, in time. I feel as if I've just completed a major project, that's all. And I _do_ have a meeting with Dumbledore tonight."

"OK. See you later, then."

She waited for them to close the door behind them before calling softly, "What do you think of all this, Severus?"

Somehow he was not really surprised that she had known of his presence. Silently, he stepped out of the shadows and took a seat without having been asked.

"About Dumbledore? It's utter tripe."

"I thought so, but Harry's notoriously instable when you dare to contradict his opinions. He still considers Dumbledore responsible for Sirius's death."

"The only one responsible for Black's death is Black himself," replied Severus with a sneer.

"Could it be… oh, I don't know, Dumbledore's brother? Aberforth? Wasn't it said that he was quite a strange person?"

"Aberforth Dumbledore doesn't exist at all. It's a character created from nothing, by Albus. Being the bartender of the Hog's Head allows one to learn quite a few things. It's the perfect cover."

"But… but didn't Moody actually see Aberforth?"

"And Albus did things with a wand that Griselda Marchbanks had never seen before in Charms and Transfiguration. What does that tell you? Ever heard of Doppelgangers?"

Hermione looked chagrined. "I never thought about it," she confessed. "All right, so Dumbledore has a less than savoury side, but it doesn't make him the Knight Commander of Walpurgis. Do _you_ know who he is?"

"Truthfully? No, I don't. Only Lucius Malfoy truly knew – or else he made as if he knew."

"But I thought Harry told me that Malfoy cited his family, and then the Lestrange, the Black, and the Snape families."

"Which is a wondrous lie. Were you all under a Believe-All spell, or what? The Snape family could not have been part of the Knights of Walpurgis, since my father," he said the name with all the venom only a snake could muster, "was a Muggle. Nobody with the name of Snape was ever a wizard, until my birth. You know it, as well as Potter and Weasley. You were the one to find out about my mother, if I recall correctly."

Hermione's eyes widened.

"I'd forgotten," she admitted. "But you shouldn't know about the discovery we made about your origins."

"I kept an eye on Potter the whole time and I had the suspicion he had my old book. It was only a question of time before you worked out the mystery around the 'Half-Blood Prince'."

Hermione blushed slightly. "So Malfoy lied the whole time to the Wizengamot?"

"Probably not the whole time, but a good part, yes."

"How is it you know about the Knights of Walpurgis, then?"

He quirked his eyebrow at her. "I am – was – a spy. And then, Lucius quite liked to brag to me about belonging to a higher Order, to be working for the good of the whole Wizarding society, etc."

"What do you know of that Order then?"

"That, contrary to what Lucius liked to tell, the Knights of Walpurgis is not as evil as it seems. It had its beginnings when it was created by Salazar Slytherin, but you have to remember that the times were dark. Witch hunts were common, and you were labelled 'wizard' or 'witch' for no other reason than the shape of your nose or the colour of your hair. Or even simply the jealousy of your neighbours. The problem was that true wizards and witches were named, also, and Salazar Slytherin wanted to protect Wizarding society from the 'barbarians', as he called them. That was the role of the Knights of Walpurgis. Their main preoccupation was not to kill Muggles, but to save wizards from them. But–"

"But some pure-blood bigots twisted the original meaning of the Knights?" guessed Hermione.

"Indeed. And instead of protecting Wizarding society – _all_ wizards and witches, even if Slytherin wasn't too keen on Muggle-borns – they began killing Muggles and proclaiming that we had to exclude Muggle-born wizards."

"And from bigot to bigot, it became worse."

"It became worse until they forgot the true meaning of the Knights. I don't know anything about the current Knight Commander, but I'm not that sure that he – or she – truly wanted to use the Dark Lord."

"It would be an invention of Malfoy's?"

"Probably. Or it could be that Lucius was delusional and thought himself to be the Knight Commander."

"Why did you tell Ron to ask Mr Higgs and Miss Nott?"

"Because I fear that Isadora Nott knows much more than she lets others believe."

Hermione remained silent a moment. "She's dangerous, isn't she?"

"As dangerous as a poisonous snake. But we should forget Miss Nott and the Knight Commander of Walpurgis for the moment. I believe we do have a meeting with our dear Headmaster tonight."

Hermione sighed.

"And he won't make it easy on us. I wish I wasn't so tired!"

Severus hesitated. "Hermione…" he said, as if tasting her name, "you're not just bookish, you know. If you were, one of us wouldn't be here right now."

She looked at him quite a long time, as if trying to understand all the meanings that could be implied by the Slytherin Head of House. Then she took a deep breath. "I forgot to tell you something very important, but then, I didn't want anyone to hear…"

He looked faintly puzzled, and she winced at her own babbling. But trusting her Gryffindor courage, she looked him in the eyes.

"Thank you, Severus," she said sincerely. "Thank you for coming as soon as possible, for not waiting for Dumbledore at my door, for finding Crookshanks, for–"

He interrupted her by brushing his finger against her lips. How he had crossed so quickly to her seat, she would never know, but now he was crouching in front of her. Briefly, she thought that no one would ever believe her if she told them that Severus Snape had been in such an undignified position.

"No," he said softly. "_You_ should not be thanking _me_. On the contrary, I should be on my knees before you, giving you my most heartfelt thanks."

"Severus, no," she murmured. "You saved me from sheer folly. You _knew_ I could feel what you felt, didn't you?"

"I had an inkling that it was so," he admitted. "But I insist, Hermione. I am in your debt, for you gave me the most precious gift: you showed me that you cared for me, to the point of selflessly giving your life for mine. I saw the result of your noble gesture; I heard what you felt at that moment, and I saw your tears upon waking up, when you were thinking I would die."

"I… I thought you would consider it pure Gryffindor foolishness," she said in a small voice.

He refuted her tentative sentence with a shake of his head. He had always thought he hated the words that were ringing in his head, that he would find a way of never saying them again. He loathed the feeling of dependency and debt that went with them. Yet, he found himself eager to say them to _her_, earnestly, and with such a desire that it almost frightened him. He should have been irritated by the futility of her gesture, a purely Gryffindor gesture, but he realised also that no other House would have done it. Not even a loyal Hufflepuff would have dared. It took a Gryffindor, with her unshakable faith and courage, to dare, and thus, to break his last defences.

"Thank you," he said quietly, his voice assured.

Even though she should have been expecting it, Hermione's eyes grew huge in wonder.


End file.
